~November, 1992~

Jonas' was working on getting a transfer, but it was taking longer than either of them had expected. Sam worried it was her father holding things up, doing anything he could to keep them from being together. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Perhaps transfers were handled by someone under him, and the only thing Jacob would see of Jonas' request was his name on a sheet of paper placed before him for his signature. That would be for the best, she thought, as she still hadn't talked to him since her graduation. The more time that passed, the harder it seemed to be to come up with a reason to contact him.

Sam was in the commissary at NORAD, drinking her umpteenth cup of coffee when two technicians joined her.

"Hey, Carter," one man said, hefting an over-stuffed jelly donut to his mouth. "How's it going?" he asked, jelly oozing out the side of his mouth.

Sam tried not to grimace at the lack of manners the overweight man exhibited as he joined her. "Great, Ralph," she said, letting her gaze follow her coffee cup to the table so she didn't have to watch him finish off his breakfast.

"Yeah, come up with any new ways to revolutionize NORAD today?" A pencil-thin male asked, elbowing Ralph as he sat down across from her. As hard as she tried, Sam couldn't get the image of Laurel and Hardy out of her mind when ever she saw these two. It wasn't only their physical resemblance, it was their lame attempt at humor. If Ralph just had an undersized bowler hat. . . . But the worst part was Ralph's anorexic sidekick was named "Stan."

"Are you guys *still* on me about that computer program thing?"

"Still impressive after all these months, Sam," Stan said lifting the largest coffee mug she'd ever seen. It was probably only filled half-way, considering how shaky the man's hands were and there wasn't coffee all over the table.

"Well that's nothing," she said lowering her voice. "I finally found the black hole you guys *swore* was a figment of my imagination."

"Get out!" Ralph hissed.

"No way!" Stan remarked, mouth gaping.

Sam launched into how she'd found the elusive object, barely acknowledging a civilian woman taking a seat at table next to them. Pausing in her explanation, Sam noticed the woman was listening in on their conversation. Not that they were discussing anything of a secure nature, but still, she didn't recognize the woman. The last thing she needed was for some non-military scientist to come in and steal her work out from under her.

"Well, guys, it's been a pleasure, as always, but I have to get back to the lab."

"Are you always so by-the-book, Carter? Who'd know if you took an extra five?" Ralph asked.

"No, one, but that would be five minutes of research I would have missed out on," she smiled.

"You're hopeless, you know that?" Stan asked.

"So I've been told," Sam grinned as she picked up her coffee cup. "See you guys later."

Sam was about to exit the commissary when the woman rose to intercept her.

"Excuse me, Dr. Carter, isn't it?"

Sam was a bit taken aback that the woman would know her. "Um, yeah. And you are?"

"Dr. Catherine Langford," she said, offering her hand.

Sam looked at the woman's outstretched hand. It appeared to be on the frail side, but it was the only thing about the woman that didn't seem to exude vitality. Her gray hair was certainly at odds with the fire in her blue eyes. She spoke with a slight accent. German perhaps?

Realizing she was staring, Sam shook the woman's hand and decided the firm grip was anything but frail.

"Forgive me for being so bold," she said, "but is there somewhere private we could talk?"

Sam shifted her feet, crossing her arms. "Look, Dr. Langford, if this is about what you *think* you heard in the commissary. . ."

"No, actually it is something quite different, I assure you. It won't take long. I have an appointment with General West in fifteen minutes. Please?"

Sighing, Sam nodded, indicating the woman should follow her. "There's a conference room just up ahead. We can use that."

Once the door was shut, Sam turned to Dr. Langford. "Now, what is this about? I have to get back to work."

Catherine gave her an enigmatic smile before she began. "I'm sorry if I was eavesdropping, but I was very impressed with your method and theories. You seem to have a rather unique approach to stellar phenomenon."

"Thank you," Sam said tersely. "If you're looking for a research partner, I'm really not interested."

"I am interested in your abilities, but not as a partner with myself, per se. I'm doctor of Archeology, specifically Egyptology."

Sam's eyes widened. "Forgive me, but I really don't see what my study of black holes has to do with ancient Egypt."

"Strange as it may seem, they are related in a way. I wish I could tell you more, but until I can get you the proper security clearance, I really can't elaborate."

"Until *you* can get *me* security clearance? Last time I checked, NORAD was a *military* installation and it worked the other way around."

Catherine gave her another small smile. "Yes, well as I'm sure you're aware, not everything in the military is as it seems."

Sam couldn't argue with her there. Even within NORAD there seemed to be more hidden agendas than she thought possible. And it was but a small corner of the Air Force. Let alone the military.

"So what is it you're asking me?" Sam wondered.

"I'm asking if you'd like to work on a project bigger than anything you could ever have imagined."

"That's rather cryptic," Sam said. "How am I supposed to answer that when I have no idea what this project entails?"

"All I can tell you at this point is that it will challenge many facets of you interests and training. Hopefully, if all goes well with General West, I'll be able to tell you more. If not, well, then you can tell your friends about the crazy woman who talked nonsense to you for ten minutes."

Sam smiled at Catherine's self-description. What did she have to lose? At least it was break in her morning routine. "Fine. Talk to the General. If I'm still a candidate for your. . .whatever, come and see me in lab 18 on level six."

Catherine's smile grew broad as she held out her hand once more. "I promise you won't regret this."

*********

Sam looked up at the knock on her door. She was surprised forty-five minutes had passed since she'd returned to her lab. If the mysterious Dr. Langford had been with General West all this time, it had to be a new record. He wasn't long on conversation. Decisions were made and implemented almost immediately.

"Come in!" she called, careful to switch off the monitor of the computer where she was doing her work. Catherine Langford claimed to be uninterested in her research, but it never hurt to be careful.

"Dr. Carter," Catherine smiled. This time the woman was practically beaming.

"Please, call me Sam," she said indicating a chair next to her own.

"I think I have what you will consider some very good news. After talking to General West, he as agreed to let me 'borrow' you for a time."

"Borrow me?"

"Officially, you'll still be attached to NORAD and Peterson, but unofficially, you will be joining my project. That is if you agree," she added hastily.

"I'm being given a choice in this?" Sam found it unusual her commanding officer didn't just order her to abandon her current work and help this woman if he felt it warranted her attention.

"This is still a civilian project, even if it's taking place within a military installation," Catherine stated with vehemence, as if she'd just had this conversation minutes ago. Sam's face must have shown her confusion as Catherine continued.

"If you'll hear me out, Sam, everything will be made clear." Catherine settled further into her seat, her eyes had a far away look as she began her story.

"To start at the beginning, I need to tell you a bit about my father, my upbringing. He was an archeologist, from Germany, who'd made a few minor discoveries, but nothing like Howard Carter's discovery of Tutanhkamen in '22. Although, he too had been working in Egypt at the time, it was Carter's discovery that introduced archeology and Egyptology to the world. After the unearthing of Tut's tomb, grants were easier to come by, and my father forged ahead with his work in earnest. Six years later, he made a discovery that rivaled Carter's. It should have, anyway." At this point Catherine stopped, looking away, obviously still bitter her father didn't receive the recognition he deserved.

"I was fortunate to have been with my father when the discovery was made," she said, with not a little pride. "Looking back now, if there hadn't been so much excitement about the object, I doubt I would have been witness to it. It was a good thing I was, for before any real tests could be done on the nature of the artifact, the American military stepped in and commandeered it."

Sam held up her hand, "Wait a second. Didn't you tell me your father's nationality was German? How did the American military end up with his artifact?"

"One of the grants my father had accepted had been underwritten by the U.S. army. It was in some *very* small print on his contract. At any rate, my father had no idea who he was really working for until they came and not only took the artifact, but any evidence associated with it. Within a week, the entire area looked as barren as the day he began excavating. He was told never to mention his discovery or continue working anywhere near the site where the object was found."

"He was never compensated for all of his work?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Oh, he was offered a professorship, and the chance to *work* on the artifact, but his research was secret. No one ever knew how brilliant he was or the fantastic discovery he'd made." Catherine looked down at her hands, fighting her emotions

"I'm sorry Dr. Langford, please continue."

"If we're to be on a first name basis, you'll have to return the favor," Catherine said.

Sam smiled. "Okay, Catherine, tell me more."

"We moved to the United States so my father could become a professor of archeology at Harvard. Even though he'd agreed to keep all knowledge of his work on the artifact secret, he'd often bring home files which I would peek into once he was asleep. Although I'd been a child when the object was unearthed, I'd never lost my wonder and curiosity about it. In a way, I think I was more obsessed with it than my father."

"You keep referring to it as 'the artifact,' or 'the object.' What is it we're talking about here?"

Catherine clasped her hands together. "Quite honestly, I still don't know and I've been studying it most of my life."

"Well, can you describe it? Give me some kind of clue what you're talking about?"

Another mysterious smile crept onto Catherine's face. "How about I show you?" Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, and Sam couldn't help but get caught up in her enthusiasm.

"Where is it?"

"Here," Catherine said.

"Here as in NORAD or here as in Colorado Springs?" Sam questioned.

"I mean here, as in beneath us."

Sam knew there were five more levels to NORAD beneath her lab, even if she'd never visited them. It certainly was possible some kind of research like this was going on below her. After all, how much space did they need for a few antiques?

"Well, since General West said I'm yours, I guess my schedule's free. Shall we go now?"

Catherine nodded. "I think you'll be most impressed."

*********

Entering the elevators, Catherine pressed "11," the lowest level of the complex. Sam suspected her lab had to be at the very bottom since she'd never caught wind of the woman's project. They exited, then turned to the right, walking until the reached another set of elevators, stationed with an Airman and a sign-in sheet. After affixing their names, Sam and Catherine entered the car, and Sam was astonished to see her press a button for level 28.

"Twenty-eight?" she questioned? There's seventeen more levels *under* NORAD? I've worked here for over a year and I've had no idea!"

"Good. That's what I like to hear. The only NORAD personnel who *should* know of this sub-level facility are those authorized to work on level 11. And even they don't know what's beyond these elevator doors.

The car came to smooth halt, opening to a gray corridor whose walls and ceilings were lined with metal conduits, the floor painted with various colored stripes. There was a surprising amount of activity, which Catherine seemed to take in stride, so Sam assumed it was normal.

"This used to be a missile silo," Catherine informed her conversationally as they made their way through the subterranean labyrinth.

"I think I remember hearing something about that," Sam said. "But I thought that was just where NORAD was housed. Her eyes were still wide as Catherine guided her through the hallways.

NORAD was a high security area, but it didn't have the covert feel of this complex. Everything about the level they walked felt sterile, stripped to the bare bones, as if any attempt at "humanizing" it was a waste of time, money and energy. Not that she expected carpeted hallways or soft pastel painted walls. It was more that the utilitarian aspect of the facility added to the overall feeling of secrecy.

"Almost there," Catherine smiled. She seemed almost as excited as Sam. The older woman swiped a card with a magnetic stripe through a reader, causing a huge blast door to slide back on great hinges. Catherine indicated Sam should enter first.

Gazing around the room, Sam noticed several technicians in white lab coats almost before she realized there was a giant ring of some sort dominating the room. Taking a step back, Sam gasped, trying to get her mind to register what she was seeing. The ring stood almost to the ceiling, making it nearly two-stories tall, and was made of some type of dark stone that sparkled under the bright florescent lights. Seven triangular objects were spaced evenly around the rim, while an inner portion seemed to be covered with symbols of some kind. She was no student of Egyptology, but even she could see they weren't typical Egyptian hieroglyphs. Although, it was the first thing that came mind as she looked at the pictographs.

Finally finding her throat suddenly dry, Sam's voice almost failed her. "This is what your father found?"

"Yes," Catherine said, pride evident in her voice. "There were one or two more items of significance, but this is the most impressive of the lot."

"I'll say," Sam breathed, still awed by the sight before her. "What is it? What does it do? Or rather what *did* it do? Has anything else like this ever been found?"

Catherine chuckled at Sam's questions. "We don't know what it is, or what it did. We have a few theories, but we were hoping perhaps you might provide the answer."

"Me?" Sam asked, turning to face Catherine. "I'm not an archeologist! I don't think I got past ancient cultures 101!"

"You're a doctor of theoretical astrophysics, with a degree in quantum mechanics, correct?"

Sam merely nodded.

"Then you're what we need," Catherine said, toying with a gold necklace.

"Are you telling me you think this thing came from *space?*"

"The material the object is made of is not found anywhere on Earth. I'll let you be the judge of where it came from."

Sam shook her head. "Well, the material may have come from space," she rationalized. "Maybe a fragment of a meteorite or something that the Egyptians fashioned into this. . .this ring. That doesn't mean it's from an extra-terrestrial culture."

"I didn't say that it was. Only that the material is unique."

"But you're leaning in that direction?" Sam asked.

"No theory is too far fetched at this point. We simply have no idea what it is," Catherine sighed, "and I've been working on this for thirteen years."

"Thirteen years? But you said your father discovered it in 1928, right? Are you telling me in all that time no one's managed to figure out what it was or it's origins?"

Catherine gave her an indulgent smile. "There is more to my story. There's a conference room half a level up. I'll tell you the rest there."

Sam followed Catherine out of the vast room, taking one last look at the object over her shoulder. She was still reeling from all she'd seen in the past half hour, and from the way it sounded, there was more to come.

********

Seated at a long table, Catherine offered Sam a cup of coffee before she launched into her explanation once more.

"In answer to your question, I believe a great deal of research has been done on the object. However, since it was the military conducting the experiments, that information is classified."

"But you're working with the military now. Surely any data they have could be turned over to you."

Catherine gave her an ironic grin as she seated herself next to Sam. "You would think so, but it seems the Army, or the Air Force for that matter can't run with out bureaucracy or red tape. The Air Force claims they never received the information from the Army, and the Army insists the Air Force lost it. You see where this is heading."

"So, essentially you've had to start from scratch," Sam said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yes. And I've been at this for longer than thirteen years, even though that's how long the project's been officially running." At Sam's questioning glance, Catherine elaborated.

"I know my father was still working on the object in the forties when there was some kind of accident, in which the Army told everyone involved the artifact had been destroyed. My father was no longer under a military contract and spent the rest of his years teaching, eventually dying in obscurity. Oh, there's a photo and a plaque on the wall in some dusty hall at Harvard, but that's all the mention my father ever received after all his hard work."

Catherine took a deep breath and began again. "Actually, I'd all but forgotten the object until I got wind that a large ring of some kind was in an armory in Washington D.C. I don't even remember how it came to my attention. After witnessing the trouble my father had gone through with it, I decided it was better off where it was. Gathering moth balls in some nameless warehouse."

Sam was intrigued with Catherine's tale and waited for her to continue.

"It was in, oh, 1969 I guess when I started questioning the nature of the ring again. I was paid a visit by two young people. A man who claimed to be the son of one of my father's associates, Heinrich Gruper, and a woman who worked with him. They asked me questions only my father would have had the answers to, and they got me thinking about the ring once more. The man kept asking me if I knew anything about a second device, one that controlled the ring. I had no idea it even *was* a device, let alone that it had a control mechanism. After their visit I began asking questions, tried to get 'custody' of the ring, along with seeking permission for a second dig where my father found the artifact. Needless to say, my request for further excavations was denied, as was my bid for ownership of the ring. I lobbied countless politicians, addressed an unknown number of committees, then finally, in 1978, during the Carter administration, someone listened to me. It was a General Perkins in the Air Force who'd come across the ring while he was a major stationed at the base where the object was stored. He claimed to have seen it "activated" for mere seconds, and the image of what he'd seen had haunted him for nearly ten years."

"There seems to be a lot of Carters involved in your experience with the ring," Sam noted with a smile.

"I prefer to think of it as a good omen," Catherine agreed.

"So, to make this extremely long story shorter, with Perkins' help we managed to gain access to this facility, move the ring and begin researching once again."

"What happened to General Perkins?"

Catherine's gaze drifted to the table as she rubbed a scar in the wood. "He died of cancer two years ago. That's when General West took over."

There was a change in Catherine's voice. Obviously she and Perkins had worked well together. Sam got the impression it wasn't the same with West.

"I take it General West hasn't exactly been 'helpful' in regards to your research," Sam said.

"You could say that. Every requisition I pass through his office he fights me on. I know if this project didn't have presidential approval he would have ended it long ago. But it's been a long time with very few results. If we don't start making some progress soon, it won't matter whose ear I have in Washington."

"So why me, why now?" Sam asked.

"Actually, I've been trying to get you assigned to this project since I heard about what you did with the computers at NORAD."

Sam rolled her eyes and started to protest, but Catherine held up her hand.

"I know your area of expertise is deep space radar telemetry and black holes. However, I think some of your theories could be applied to my project as well. I've had some of the best computer minds in the country working on finding a way to make the ring glow as Perkins told me he'd seen it do. The inner track can be rotated, so I know the symbols have something to do with it's operation. I really could use your help with this Sam."

Sam thought about her options. She'd finally showed some progress in her own research, something that might "put her on the map," so to speak. Did she really want to give that up to work on some secret project she would never be recognized for? But what if they *could* discover the ring's true purpose and it was something wonderful? Something that had such far-reaching implications they were inconceivable at the moment? Besides the challenge of discovering something that for all intents and purposes shouldn't even be on the planet. Was there really any choice?

"Catherine, I think you've just recruited yourself an astrophysicist."

*********

Catherine's smile lit up the room as she stood to shake Sam's hand. "I don't think you'll regret this decision. Come. I'd like to introduce you to some of my staff."

A type of "command central" had been set up in a room overlooking the ring. With it's banks of monitors, it could have been any room in NORAD, except for the fact Sam immediately recognized the computers weren't tracking satellites. In fact, they didn't seem to be doing any type of tracking. Instead, they were running calculations that even she couldn't follow.

"Gary, Barbara, I'd like you to meet our newest addition," Catherine said, ushering Sam forward. "Dr. Samantha Carter, also a captain in the Air Force, this is Dr. Barbara Shore, our resident mathematician and Dr. Gary Meyers, our expert on linguistics and ancient writings."

Sam stepped forward, accepting the out-stretched hands. "Pleased to meet you both."

"And you," Barbara said enthusiastically. "Catherine's talked a lot about you."

"Oh? We just met today," Sam said, looking over at the older woman.

"But your reputation precedes you," Gary added.

Sam felt uneasy with the praise. "I hope I live up to the hype!"

Catherine placed her hand on Sam's shoulder. "You have nothing to worry about. Gary, Barbara? Care to tag along as I show Sam the rest?"

Barbara snubbed out her cigarette as Gary shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not."

The first room they entered was a type of lab, the "think tank," Barbara told Sam. "We often accomplish the most if we just sit around and brainstorm."

Looking around the room, it seemed like a typical lab to Sam. Computers; read-outs covering desk tops, spilling onto the floor; coffee cups and a coffee maker Sam noticed because of the acrid smell of burnt coffee permeating the air. Gary walked over to the pot switching it off.

"Sorry, guess I forgot to turn it off earlier," he said sheepishly.

"There's a desk back here you can use," Catherine pointed out. "Let me know if you have any special needs, and I'll see what I can do. As I said earlier, General West hasn't been exactly forthcoming with assistance."

"I'm sure this will be fine," Sam assured her. She got a quick look around the room before Catherine was moving her forward once more.

"The super computers that are running the calculations in the control room are housed in this area," Catherine pointed out.

"Three of them?" Sam asked, her jaw dropping. If indeed it was the government financing this venture, this project had a lot of money to throw around.

"Yes, and after thirteen years, we've still had no conclusive results. Perhaps you'll have better luck?" Catherine suggested.

Sam shrugged her shoulders. "I can give it a try, but Catherine, you know it's not really my area."

"Samantha, from what I've read in your file, I think anything you try is your area."

Sam felt her face growing warm. It was bad enough Catherine kept heralding her arrival like she was Joan of Arc. Did she have to do it in front of her current staff?

Catherine opened double doors into another two-story room, this one dominated by a circular "tablet" made of sections of stone. Some of the pieces had cracked or broken, but were held in place with metal rods, much like dinosaur skeletons she'd seen in museums.

"I suppose I'm starting my tour a little backward," Catherine smiled. "These stones were the first thing my father and his team discovered in Giza. The ring was found underneath."

Sam walked forward with her hand outstretched. At the last minute, she pulled back. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, "may I touch it?" All three scientists smiled as Catherine gave her assent. The stone was rough, something like sandstone, only harder. Most of the glyphs looked like standard Egyptian, but there was a cartouche in the center that had symbols she'd never seen before. There was an ring of pictographs on the outer edge of the cover stones that were unusual as well.

"I've never seen writing like this," Sam said, running her fingers over the central cartouche.

The three exchanged knowing glances again. "No one has," Barbara said with a slightly smug smile.

"These symbols," Sam said, running her hand along the outside rim, "they're the same ones on the ring in the other room, right?"

Gary looked from Catherine to Sam. "I thought you said you just showed her the ring a little while ago? I didn't realize you'd had a chance to study it."

"I didn't," Sam said. "I just thought these pictographs looked like a similar style to those on the ring."

A huge smile broke out over Gary's face. "Well, you're absolutely correct, Dr. Carter!" Looking back over at Catherine, he gave his blessing. "You're right. I'm impressed."

Looking back up at the stones, Sam asked, "How old is this?"

"That's the really interesting part," Barbara said. "It's been carbon dated, so there can be no mistake." She paused for a moment, quickly glancing at Catherine. "According to the tests, it's ten thousand years old."

Sam felt like she'd absorbed more incredible facts in the past hour than she had in an entire year. "Ten *thousand* years? But how is that possible? I mean, I thought Egyptian culture wasn't nearly that old! And certainly not at the level of sophistication necessary to carve these stones, much less make that ring!"

"You see our dilemma," Catherine said.

"There's no mistake on the date," Barbara said. "I don't know how many times we've run the tests, and we get the same result."

"Are you suggesting alien intervention, like some have theorized?" Sam asked, looking from one to the other. "You really think the object has something to do with beings from space? From another world?"

Catherine exchanged a slightly embarrassed look with her colleagues who were also looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Let's just say we haven't ruled out the possibility."

"Wow," Sam said, eyes wide. Before she could comment further, Gary jumped in with an explanation.

"I've translated a good portion of the hieroglyphs from the cover stones, and there is evidence to suggest this ring was some kind of 'doorway.' How, exactly, is what we've been trying to figure out all these years."

"That's pretty amazing," Sam said. It was a bit of a leap of faith to take these people at their word, but isn't that what she loved about science? Taking an idea, something no one thought was conceivable and proving it was possible? The others looked at her expectantly, as a smile broke out over Sam's features. "So, when do I start?

*********

Sheila was just sitting down to dinner when Sam breezed in the door.

"Hey, I didn't expect you so early! Half the time they can't pry you out of that lab! You want some supper?"

"No thanks, I'll grab something later," she said, taking a bottle of juice from the refrigerator, joining Sheila at the table.

"What?" Her room mate asked. "You look like you're about to burst."

"I got a new job today!"

"But I thought you liked what you were doing."

"I do," Sam said, jumping up to pace, too excited to sit still. "It's fascinating, but this could be even better."

"What about NASA? It thought what you were doing now was going to get you there in a year or two."

"It still might," she said, taking a swig of her juice.

"So what is it?" Sheila pressed.

"I can't tell you, it's classified."

"Are you still at NORAD?"

Sam thought about her response just long enough to sound unsure. "Yes."

"Well come on, Sam, either you're still at NORAD or you aren't, which is it?"

"Yes, I'm still there, just in a different area. Oh, and if you need to get a hold of me for any reason, I'll have to be paged. Here's the new number." She scribbled the digits onto the dry erase memo board they had near the phone.

Sheila sat back in her chair, her meal forgotten. "This sounds awful 'cloak and dagger,'" she commented.

"It's not. Not really, just a highly sensitive project."

"Can you tell me *anything* about it?"

Sam thought for a moment. "I think I'm going to be doing a lot of computer work."

Sheila shook her head in exasperation. "Well, I'd say that was a given. Okay. I guess there's nothing you can really tell me. How'd you get picked for this?"

Sam tried sitting down once more. "The woman who's heading the project approached me. I was sitting with 'Laurel and Hardy' in the commissary and she overheard me talking about black holes. Next thing I know, she's asking me if I want to join her project, and I've got General West's okay."

"Wow, that was fast. I didn't think the Air Force ever moved that quick."

"If it's something they want, it's amazing how fast they get their shit together."

"So, you really can't tell me any more, huh?"

Sam shook her head. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have even brought it up when I can't talk about it."

"No, it's all right. It's just that nothing exciting like this ever happens in meteorology," she sighed. "Oh, sure, it's big news when there's a natural disaster going on some where, but we never get to do any of the really fun secret stuff like you guys at NORAD get to."

Sam smiled at her. "It's kind the nature of your science *not* to be secretive. You're in the business of make *sure* everyone knows what you've found. Personally, I'd find that refreshing."

Sheila picked up a carrot stick and started munching on it. "Grass is always greener, I suppose," she said. "Hey, what do you think Jonas is going to think of all this? I mean with him in Special Ops and you doing. . .whatever you'll be a two-secret household! I can just hear your dinner conversation:

"How was your day, Dear?"

"That's classified. What about you? Find any little green men?"

"That's classified. So, what country are you going to next?"

"That's classified."

Sam picked another carrot off Sheila's plate, tossing it at her. "That's not funny!" she said, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, but am I right?"

"No! Jonas and I have other things to talk about besides the Air Force."

"But think about it. When it's *so* much a part of your lives, you sure it won't be a problem?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know. I don't think it'll be a problem, but how do I know? It *shouldn't* be, but I really don't know. I suppose I'll have to see."

Sheila continued to press her. "What if he tells you he doesn't want you to work on something like this? Would you quit?"

"What, the Air Force or the project?"

"I mean the project," Sheila sighed.

Sam leaned back in her chair, staring off into space. "I guess I never really thought about it. I don't know why he *would* ask me to quit."

"Maybe because he doesn't want you in a more important position than him?"

"Sheila, he's not like that! He knows he's got an important job. What I do doesn't matter to him."

"Are you sure? I mean, yeah, he's in Special Ops and all, but basically he's just a grunt like the rest of them. But here you are, one shining achievement after another. You don't think he's going to start getting resentful of that after a while?"

Sam looked at the ceiling, as if the answer was there. She hadn't really thought about it before, but would Jonas be jealous of her accomplishments? Especially considering his one true passion had been flying and it had been taken from him? He'd had to "make do" with Special Ops, when everything she'd tried for seemingly fell into her lap. She always assumed he was okay with her occupation, but what if he was trying to *convince* himself he was okay with it?

Looking back at her friend, Sam asked, "has he said something to you?"

"Me? No, but even though I see how crazy he is about you, I still sense a bit of . . .resentment? Maybe?"

Sam shrugged, getting up. "Well, I don't see it, but I'll try to not to make too big a deal out of this. Oh, and in answer to your original question, would I quit? No, I don't think I would. I just hope I don't have to find out for real what I'd do."

*********

Sam was bent over reports, trying to make sense of the conflicting views Catherine had of the ring and those observed by General Perkins. There was something missing; a piece of the puzzle they hadn't been able to find. And Catherine's staff and computers had been at it for thirteen years. Did she really expect to find it in a day?

She'd hoped just her new perspective would discover something, but her head hurt so much, the answer could have been printed out in letters six inches high and she wouldn't have seen it. Sam couldn't blame the headache on the stacks of folders lining her desk. No, the pain in her head and her heart had started the night before when she'd called Jonas to tell him of her new assignment. Sam was seriously beginning to think Sheila was psychic, for she'd nailed his attitude right on the head.

The first thing he did was ask if her new job was dangerous. However, after that, things escalated into an argument. Looking back, Sam wasn't sure how it started, or what they were even fighting about when she never really discussed what she was doing at NORAD before. Why should this make any difference? He tried to smooth things over by the end of the conversation, but she was too angry at his irrational behavior. Did she get upset with him when his job sent him into deadly situations on a regular basis? No, she trusted him and that was all that mattered. Sam was just upset he couldn't extend her the same trust. Especially when she wasn't doing anything dangerous. She should have just told him her phone number had changed and left it at that.

Rubbing her temples, Sam leaned back in her chair as Barbara entered the lab. "Not such a great first day?" She asked, withdrawing a cigarette from a nearly empty pack, lighting it.

"It's going okay. I just have a headache, that's all."

Barbara walked to a cupboard near the coffee pot and took a huge, white, plastic bottle from inside. Placing it before Sam, she grinned. "We eat them like candy around here."

Sam managed a smile as she noticed the "Tylenol" label. "Thanks," she said, helping herself to two tablets. "Ugh. I don't know what's worse, the headache or trying to swallow these damn pills."

Barbara exhaled her smoke away from Sam as she took a seat in her chair, swiveling it to face the woman next to her. "So, you find anything?" she asked, nodding toward the reports on Sam's desk.

"I don't know. Every time I think I find something, someone else has had a different observation. They can't all be right."

"Yeah, that's been the trouble all along," Barbara said, flicking ashes into an overflowing ashtray. "Still, the thing we agree on the most is it's a device of some kind, not just symbolic. I doubt the inner track would move if it was just a decoration."

"The inner track moves?" Sam questioned, looking back down at the reports in front of her. She couldn't remember reading that.

"It's probably in there somewhere," Barbara said, waving a hand at the pile of papers on Sam's desk. "You probably just haven't gotten to it yet."

"I'd really like a closer look at the ring, but Catherine suggested I start with the reports to get me 'up to speed' on what it is. Personally, I think I'd have a better shot if I had some hands-on experience."

"Catherine's in some meeting in Washington today, but I don't think she'd mind if you had a closer look. After all, you've got the required clearances. Let's go take a gander." Barbara snuffed out her cigarette and led Sam back through the hallways to the room the ring was in.

"The blue line is the one you want to follow," Barbara pointed out. "Why don't you try your access card, we'll make sure it works."

Sam ran her card through the reader and the door slid back with a slow, mechanical whir.

"Would you look at that," Barbara smiled. "Something military issue worked right the first time." As if she suddenly realized Sam was standing before her in her uniform, Barbara became a bit flustered. "I mean, you know the reputation, and all. . . ."

Sam gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be the first to admit the Air Force could use a little help when it comes to getting things to work. Everything comes neatly wrapped in tons of red tape."

"That's why Catherine's in Washington. Some snafu with the funding again. I swear, she spends more time on a plane or in D.C. than she does here. We could really use a liaison there." Turning to the command center, Barbara called out, "could we have some light on the object, please?" It took a moment, then row by row, the lights came on.

"Thanks!" Sam called to the dark glass. It was a little unnerving not being able to see people inside the control room. Walking up the ramp to the ring, Sam noticed there were more of the triangular shaped sections below the metal grating, making it nine "objects" total evenly spaced around the rim of the ring. Tentatively, Sam reached out a hand, touching the outer surface of the ring. It was cool to the touch and felt almost like glass, but appeared to be stone or metal.

"Any idea what function these serve?" Sam asked, touching a triangular area.

"None whatsoever. They're evenly spaced, so we figure there's some significance in that."

Sam sighed and stepped back a little, tilting her head to look to the apex of the ring. "Reminds me of that scene from '2001: A Space Odyssey' when the primitives were throwing bones at the monolith. For all our technology, we don't have any more of a clue than they did."

"Maybe we should try tossing some bones at it," Barbara chuckled.

"I just wish someone would throw *me* a bone. Some place to start looking." Sam stepped closer again, and tried moving the inner track. Digging her fingers into one of the symbols carved on the ring, she was surprised at how easily it moved. Well, it wasn't like spinning a wheel on a game show, she thought, but the fact she could move it by hand suggested it was supposed to move freely.

"It must need some kind of power to make it move," Sam thought out loud. "Anybody ever try to give it some juice?"

"They tried hooking it up to a generator. Got the triangular things to glow a little, but that was it."

"Like General Perkins claimed he saw in 1969, right?"

"Yeah, but he said all he really saw was a flash from the 'chevrons,' as he called them, some smoke along the edge of the ring, and then nothing. We've never been able to even get that much action out of the thing. And the weird part is, the airmen on duty claimed some people went *through* the ring and disappeared. Of course it wasn't substantiated, and the airmen were removed from duty for some much needed counseling, so we don't know how much of their story is fact and how much is fiction."

"General Perkins didn't see anyone go through?" Sam asked.

"No, just what I've told you."

"Well, if Gary's translation is correct, and it is a 'doorway to heaven,' maybe the airmen weren't hallucinating. Maybe those people did go through a 'doorway' of some kind."

"But to where?" Barbara asked.

Sam looked over at her new colleague. "Your guess is as good as mine."

*********

Sam was still musing over the day's discoveries as she entered her quarters. She could see how Catherine, and everyone working on the project had become obsessed with it. One day and she was already so preoccupied with her new assignment, she didn't notice a flower box sitting on the coffee table until she'd been staring at it for some time.

Shrugging off her jacket, Sam sighed. She hated it when Jonas apologized with flowers. Not only did it make her feel she'd over-reacted to a legitimate concern, she knew she he couldn't afford the gesture. If he felt he couldn't just call her and apologize, why couldn't he send a card or something else that wasn't so expensive? It made her feel all the more guilty. Could that be the point? No, Jonas loved her. He only wanted to let her know how much.

Removing the lid, Sam noticed a mixture of daisies, carnations and other bright flowers surrounding a small teddy bear with a forlorn look on it's face. It was holding a heart which read: I'm sorry. Shaking her head, Sam pulled the flowers from the tissue. She had to admit, it was cute, but Jonas needed to get a new book other than "The Language Of Flowers." At least this bouquet wasn't some huge monstrosity, and she *could* use the coffee cup/vase when the flowers died. She was deciding where she was going to put it when she heard Sheila opening their door.

? "Looks like you guys had another fight," she observed, taking off her coat and hanging it near the entrance.

"No, not really," Sam said.

"Hey, for someone who just got flowers you don't seem very happy!"

"I feel like he's manipulating me," Sam said, holding the flowers in her outstretched hand as if she found them offensive. "We argued about my new job last night. I guess I should have been expecting these."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth!" Sheila said, taking the flowers from her to examine them more closely. "I wish Darnel was half as romantic."

"But is it romantic? I mean, I suppose it is, but he also knows I can't yell at him when he's done something nice for me. Sheila, his attitude about what I do was way off base! Uh, no pun intended," she smiled. "Not only that, it's hypocritical! He can have this 'ultra secret' existence, and expect me just to accept it? So when my work becomes more classified, it's okay for him to pitch a fit? And now I have to call him, thank him for the flowers, which in essence is me saying he was right and I'm wrong. But I'm *not* wrong!"

"Then don't call him," Sheila said, placing the flowers on the coffee table next to the box.

"Then it looks like I'm some ungrateful bitch, and he was right to pick a fight with me," Sam said, grinding her palms into her eyes as she flopped onto the sofa. Running her fingers through her hair, she looked up at Sheila. "What would you do?"

"Hey, don't get me involved here," she said, holding out her hands, backing away. Besides, what I would do and what you would do are two totally different things. If this is really bugging you, Sam, you're going to have to learn to stand up to him or you're going to have one hell of a lopsided marriage."

Sam blew out a breath. "Yeah, I know. I just don't want to fight anymore." Then she smiled at her room mate. "Mostly because I don't know where I'd go with more flowers!"

Sheila laughed, squeezing her shoulder. "You'll do the right thing. You always do."

Sheila headed for her room as Sam picked up the phone. She almost hoped he wasn't there so she could leave a quick message on Jonas' machine and be done with it. Her luck had run out.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jonas."

"Sam! You must have gotten the flowers!"

"Uh, yeah, about that. . . ." she cleared her throat. "Jonas, I really appreciate the gesture, but you know it wasn't necessary. We had a disagreement. You make me feel like our argument over my new job is a big deal. It's not." There was a silence on the other end of the line. "Jonas?"

"I'm sorry you didn't like them," he whispered.

"Jonas! I love the flowers! They're beautiful! But they were a waste of money!"

"It's my money! If I want to send the woman I love flowers every day I will!"

Sam pulled her knees up to her chest, curling herself into a ball. "That's not what I mean and you know it! Are we going to fight about the flowers now?"

"I don't want to fight with you, Sam. That's why I sent the flowers. It chews me up inside when I think you're not happy."

Sam rubbed her fingers across her eyebrows. "I don't want to fight with you either, Jonas. What's the big deal about me getting a new posting anyway? I thought you'd be happy for me!"

There was a pause, then, "I *am* happy for you. I guess I. . . ."

"What? You guess what?"

"I guess I'm a little jealous, okay? Here you got this great new job that's got you all fired up, I guess I thought you wouldn't have time to miss me." She was straining to hear him by the end of his confession.

"Oh, Jonas! How could you even think that? I miss you all the time! And I called you first thing because I wanted to share my excitement with you, *because* I miss you!"

"I've got some news, too."

"You're getting out of Special Ops?" she asked hopefully.

"I can't quit, you know that! No, this is about me moving closer. I think I'm getting closer to my transfer to Peterson."

"Jonas that's great! I think half the problem is we don't see each other enough! If you're living here I'm sure things will be better!"

"I should hear something by the end of the week. So, you really want me there?"

"You get your butt up here, and I'll show you how much I want you!"

"We're okay, then?" he asked tentatively.

"We're okay. Providing you don't send me any more flowers!" she teased.

"Well, don't give me a reason to, and we won't have a problem." His tone was light, but Sam wondered for a moment if there wasn't a bit of a warning in his statement.

"I should go," Sam said. "We ran up quite bill last night. Let me know the minute you hear about your transfer, all right?"

"You'll be the first to know. Well, after me, of course. I love you, Sam."

"I love you too. Bye." She hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment. They had settled things, hadn't they? Jonas had a way of turning things around on her that sometimes she wasn't sure she'd made her point or not.

Sheila poked her head out from her room. "Things okay in Paradise?"

"Yeah. He said he's getting closer to his transfer," she said.

"That's got to be good news, right?"

"Sure," Sam said, standing and collecting her coat and flowers. "It's great news."

"Well, try to contain your enthusiasm, okay? I mean I don't want the neighbors calling the MPs or anything."

Sam gave her bright smile. "I'm happy about it, really. He always has me a little disoriented, you know? I wish I knew what was going on in that head of his."

"Hey, you figure out what men are thinking you'll be the richest woman in the world!"

Sam gave a short laugh. "And they say *we're* confusing!"

*********

Sam sat her desk, toying with her coffee cup. It was the one her flowers had come in a week ago, and she'd brought it to work as a remembrance of Jonas. The pink ceramic was a bit garish for her, but the sentiment of "thinking of you" glazed on both sides made her smile.

"You look a million miles away," Catherine observed, taking a cup of coffee herself.

"Actually, I'm a lot closer than that," Sam said, raising the cup to her lips. "I'm in the room with the ring."

"Well, you won't be the first, or the last to be lost in contemplation on it."

"I just can't get past Gary's translation of "doorway to heaven," Sam said, placing her coffee cup on the desk. "I realize it's a metaphor, but what if it's more literal than we think?"

"I'm not sure I follow you, "Catherine said.

"Okay, doorway could mean 'entrance,' or 'portal' or 'gate' or 'gateway.' Heaven could mean 'paradise,' or 'nirvana.' What if it has some kind of hallucinogenic effect? If it was used in some kind of religious rite, maybe something about it causes visions. Doorway to Heaven might mean a way to bliss, to understanding. It also might explain about those airmen who thought they saw people go through the ring--it might have been some narcotic side effect or something."

"But what about the other meanings of Heaven," Catherine offered. "'Sky,' or 'cosmos?'

"Door to the cosmos? That's an interesting thought," Sam said, leaning back in her chair. "This is one hell of a mystery to unlock." She sat tapping her fingers on the surface of her desk when suddenly she looked up at Catherine.

"That's it! A lock!"

"What do you mean?"

"What do most doors have to keep out unwanted elements?" Sam asked, grinning as her idea took hold, beginning to form.

Catherine looked confused.

"A lock!" Sam cried, getting to her feet. "Come on. Let's go have another look at the ring."

"Samantha," Catherine said in an almost maternal tone, "what are you talking about?"

"I'll explain it on the way," she said, ushering the older woman out the door. "Okay, what kinds of locks are there? Ones that need keys, ones that have combinations, right? What if that inner track is like a giant combination lock?"

"I suppose it's possible," Catherine said, still a little off-balance by Sam's almost cryptic ebullience. "But how do we know what the 'combination' is? There's thirty-nine symbols on the inner ring, and how do we know how many 'stops' are necessary?"

"Well, there's nine 'chevrons,' as General Perkins called them. Maybe we need a sequence of nine symbols."

"Do you have any idea the number of possible combinations that is?" Catherine asked as she swiped her card to gain access to the ring room.

"Isn't that one of the reasons you have three super computers and a mathematician on your staff?" Sam grinned.

Catherine merely raised her eyebrows in agreement.

Once in the room, Sam began to circle the ring. There had to be some way to get it enough power to move the inner track. But how to do that was a mystery. It wasn't like there was a cord attached they could plug in somewhere.

"Barbara told me you tried to hook a generator up to the ring before."

"Yes, but not with much success. I don't know if we didn't have enough power, or we just didn't know what we were doing. I suspect it was the latter."

Sam smiled at Catherine's observation. "I pretty much said the same thing to Barbara. I feel like a caveman who's been given a computer but don't even have the slightest idea how to turn it on, much less operate it."

"That's why we tried the generator in the first place," Catherine said. "Once it's turned on, then we can begin to try to understand how to use it."

"So, maybe it needs more power. How do we do that?"

"I suppose we need a bigger generator. Perhaps a more efficient way of transferring that power. I'll talk to some of our electricians, they should have some ideas."

"If only this thing had come with an owner's manual," Sam quipped as they left the room.

"Well, it sort of did. The cover stones seem to have some clues on them. I know you haven't had a lot of time to study them, but perhaps if you talked to Gary, you might get some more ideas."

"I think I will." Sam started to head toward the room where the stones were stored when Catherine put a hand on her arm, stopping her.

"You did a good job today, Sam. In all this time none of us thought of the possibility of the inner ring being a lock. I think you're onto something."

"Well, sometimes all you need is a fresh pair of eyes," she shrugged.

"Don't sell yourself short, Samantha. I knew you were what we needed for this project. I only wish General West hadn't been so stubborn about assigning you."

"Then I guess I better earn my keep," she smiled. "I'll see what I can find out from Gary."

*********

Sam and Gary tossed around ideas for several hours, but neither came to any conclusions about the object the stones had been covering. It seemed the symbols inscribed on the outer edge were simply a confirmation of what was beneath. Kind of like "yep, that's what's here so heed the warning." Gary laughed at her description, but had to agree it was apt. Sam didn't want to question him, since he was the authority on ancient languages, but the words seemed so ambiguous, she wondered if they couldn't be interpreted in more than one way. Some things just didn't seem to make sense, and she questioned if she wouldn't be better off starting from scratch on the ring.

In then end, Sam felt she'd learned no more about the object than she'd known at the beginning of the day. Well, that wasn't quite true. She felt she was onto something with her "lock" analogy. Now all she had to do was figure out how to make it work.

Sitting down at her desk to sift through more reports, Sam hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. She jerked awake, blinking her dry eyes.

"You been here all night?" Barbara asked, setting her bag down on her desk.

"I guess so," Sam answered, stretching and yawning. "I just sat down to do a little more research, and I guess I drifted off," she checked her watch. "For six hours."

"I'll cover for you this time, but you should know, Catherine doesn't like people burning the midnight oil around here. You start doing it too much and she's going to check with the sentries. Believe me, she might seem like your kindly Aunt Martha, but when she gets riled, you don't want to be in her way," Barbara warned. A smile of appreciation came her cross her face as she added, "how do you think this project got started or keeps going? She might be quiet, but she's a force to be reckoned with."

Sam rubbed her tired eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

"No sweat, Kid. Hey! I hear you had a revelation yesterday!"

"I don't know that I'd call it a 'revelation,' but, yeah, I think I've got some place to start," Sam smiled, eager to put her latest ideas to work. When she'd been drifting off she had a thought about how to get the ring moving, and now she couldn't wait to test her theory.

After a quick clean-up in the restroom, Sam did her best to look refreshed and alert, should she run into Catherine. No one was in the command center at this early hour, for which she was grateful. She doubted the computer techs would appreciate her 'fiddling' with their stations any more than she'd tolerate someone messing with her projects.

Sam sat down at a keyboard and began typing. A small smile crossing her face as she saw her program start to take shape. This might work, she thought. It just might work.

*********

Finishing up her work on the computers as the first of the techs arrived, Sam sought out Catherine.

Looking up from her desk, Catherine seemed surprised to see Sam. "Barbara told me you'd gotten here early; I'm surprised I didn't see you," she said, going over a list attached to a clipboard.

Sam looked across the room, giving Barbara a slight nod of thanks. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get an early start. Look, Catherine, I suppose I should have waited for your approval, but I wrote and installed a program I think might get the inner track to work."

"You're kidding! Since this morning?"

"Well, I was thinking about it most of the night," Sam said, wondering why when she got a full-blown idea people found it so hard to believe. "I was thinking about the power as well. In General Perkins report, he states he saw smoke coming from the ring. What if it wasn't smoke, but steam?"

"Steam?" she asked, apparently running the idea around in her head. "It's possible, I suppose. John only saw it for a moment. It's possible he mistook vapor for smoke."

Sam was a bit surprised to hear Catherine referring to a general by his first name, but then again, as a civilian, it would have been a little clumsy continually addressing him by his rank.

"What makes *you* think it's steam?" Barbara asked, joining the conversation.

"Think about it. Touching the ring it not only feels cool, but down right cold. I don't know what it is about the material it's made of that makes it feel cooler than room temperature. But if something hot came in contact with it, the result would be steam."

"Something like the heat generated by electrical connections," Catherine supplied.

"That's what I was thinking," Sam said.

Barbara took a long drag on her cigarette. "But we've already tried hooking it up to a power source. There was no smoke, steam. Nothing."

"What if it wasn't enough?" Sam said, looking between both women. "Something that massive has to take an incredible amount of energy to function. And have you done any tests on conductivity of the mineral? What if it's a poor conductor? That may have to be compensated for as well."

Catherine and Barbara exchanged glances. "It makes sense," Barbara shrugged. "I don't think anyone's thought to check out that angle of the ring."

Catherine picked up a phone on her desk, asking to speak to the head electrician. After a moment she handed the receiver to Sam. "This is your idea, perhaps you can explain it better."

It wasn't a long conversation as Sam merely asked to meet him in the ring room. Trying to clarify what she wanted would be easier with the object in front of them.

With Catherine and Barbara in tow, Sam wasn't surprised to see Gary join their ranks. She felt a little self-conscious at having an audience, but she understood their interest. If she was in their position she'd be curious too.

Once everyone was assembled, Sam outlined her plan, trying to ignore the whispering of her colleagues. From the sound of things, they didn't have a lot of faith in her idea, but Sam was confident. If this didn't work, she knew she had to be close.

While the electricians were busy gathering their materials, Sam took the three with her into the command center where she explained the computer program she'd written.

"Okay, here's the basics," she said. "I've asked the electrical guys to hook the ring up to the main transformer. After discussing it with them, they thought using the clamps holding the ring would be the most effective way of transferring current. That's what the engineer's new guy, Siler, suggested, and I agree."

"So once it has power, then what?" Gary asked.

"Then we try to use the program I wrote this morning to get the inner track to move. After that, it's anyone's guess what could happen."

Upon hearing someone had been working with the computers, one of the techs started to protest. However, Catherine waved him down, stating Sam had her permission. Sharing a secret smile, Sam thanked Catherine for backing her up after-the-fact. It seemed several people were looking out for her that day!

"My thought is once the dialing program starts. . ."

"Wait a second, 'dialing program?'" Barbara asked.

Sam shrugged her shoulders. "The whole thing reminds me of a giant rotary telephone, so, it's kind of like dialing a symbol instead of a number."

Barbara tried to cover her grin. "When you put it like that, I guess it's as good a name as any."

Catherine too looked down to hide her smile. "You do have a unique perspective, Captain Carter."

"Let's just hope I'm right."

*********

It took over an hour for the engineers to hook the ring up to the lower base's main source of power. For an hour, Sam spent pacing, then tweaking her program, then tapping her fingers on the console in front of her. Catherine and the others had wandered off to pursue other interests as Sam waited for the electricians to finish.

"All set, Captain Carter," Siler called out as the men began to evacuate the room. Sam had Catherine and the others paged, and once they arrived, Siler threw the main switch. For a moment there was only the hum of high voltage, then steam rising from where the clamps connected with the ring.

"You were right," Barbara said in awe.

"Maybe about the steam, but let's see if I hit a home run," Sam said, leaning over a keyboard, typing in commands. Slowly, the closest chevrons to the clamps began to glow. Not much at first, but the light grew stronger the longer electricity flowed into the ring.

Before long, all the chevrons were glowing quite brightly, but that was the extent of the object's display. Sam initiated the program, which seemed to be functioning, but nothing was happening.

"Maybe someone should kick it," Gary joked.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Sam said, grasping the microphone to the ring room.

"Sergeant Siler? Is there anything blocking the inner track that would keep it from moving?"

Siler approached slowly, glancing up at the glowing ring as if he expected it to suddenly come alive. Swallowing, he called out. "Um, not that I can see, Captain."

Looking over at Gary Sam smiled. "Dr. Meyers' suggested kicking it. What do you think?"

"Well, with all due respect, Ma'am, with that kind of charge circulating through the object, I don't think it would be wise to touch it. It's not exactly an electric fence."

"Hang on, I'll be down in a minute."

"Sam?" Catherine asked, lying her hand on the woman's arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Something's preventing the program functioning. I'm going to find out what it is."

"That could be dangerous. You've already gotten further with the ring than any of us have. Perhaps we should turn off the power, analyze what we've seen and then you can try it again."

"Catherine, I'm almost there, I know it. Just let me get a closer look. I promise I'll be careful."

Reluctantly, Catherine removed her hand, allowing Sam to leave the command center. Entering the ring room, Sam could really hear the whine of electrical current, and felt a knot of tension form in her stomach.

"I don't know what more you can do," Siler said, speaking over the din in the room.

"This should be working," Sam muttered as she walked around the ring. She could feel the heat radiating from the circle and the thought of radiation crossed her mind. "Catherine? Are you taking any readings off this? Radiation? Electrical usage? Any thing else that might give us a clue as to what it does?"

"We're on it," she heard Catherine reply over the loudspeakers. After a moment she spoke again. "I'm not getting any dangerous radiation readings, but there's EM energy that's off the scale. I don't think you're in any jeopardy being in the room with it."

"That's a relief," Siler said, giving Sam a weak smile.

"I just don't see any reason why it's not moving," Sam said, exasperated. Looking around the room, she spotted a rather heavy looking wrench. Picking it up, Sam gauged the force and direction she'd have to throw it to connect with the ring.

"Captain?" Siler asked, seeing her pick up the tool. "What are you doing?"

"Throwing a bone at the monolith," she said as she threw the wrench as hard as she could. The metal made contact with the ring, causing a shower of sparks. Siler grabbed Sam by her lab coat, dragging her back toward the door as the inner ring slowly began to turn, then picked up a little speed.

"No! Wait!" Sam cried, pulling away from Siler's grip. "It worked! It's moving!" A muffled cheer could be heard from the command center, then louder as the microphone became active.

"Well done, Dr. Carter!" Catherine congratulated her.

Sam couldn't contain the triumphant grin from spreading across her face. "What do you know?" she said, turning to Siler. "Gary was right; all it needed was a good, swift kick!"

*********

It was late when Sam returned to her house, but she was still tingling with excitement. Slightly tipsy on celebritory champagne, she merely laughed when Sheila appeared from nowhere, obviously angry.

"Where the hell have you been? You don't come home all last night, you don't answer your pages, you don't even leave me a God-damned message to let me know you're alive! And on top of that, I've had to field Jonas' calls all night!"

Sheila's tirade only managed to make Sam's smile slip a little. "I'm sorry, Sheila. I should have called. I meant to, really, but I got so wrapped up with work, I guess I just forgot. I didn't plan on spending the night at NORAD, but I fell asleep at my desk. I'm sorry if I worried you."

"Yeah, well, I'm still mad at you. I was a basket case today!"

"It was really inconsiderate of me," Sam agreed.

"You could at least wipe the smile off your face if you're trying to convince me you're remorseful," she said, a smile of her own creeping across her features.

"I'm sorry! But you wouldn't believe the day I had. Sheila! I got something to work today Catherine and the others have been working on for thirteen *years!* Well, partially work, anyway," Sam said, sailing through the living room, still high on her achievement. "This has been the most significant thing I've ever done!"

Sheila crossed her arms and leaned into the doorframe. "Gee, it's too bad you can't get a little more excited about it. Hey, look, I'm sorry I yelled, and I don't mean to act like anyone's mother, but I get worried when I don't hear from you. Especially after those attacks last week."

Sam ended her "flight" around the room by landing on the sofa. "I can take care of myself," she said, her tone reassuring. "I've had level three hand-to-hand combat training."

"Sam, I'm sure in most cases you can defend yourself, but one of the girls assaulted was an MP! And she was twice your size! I just worry when you keep such odd hours. Besides, Jonas keeps calling and getting me all paranoid."

"When did he call?"

"Which ten times? The first was a message on the machine, and then almost every hour after that. I told him you were tied up at work, all the while I was praying you weren't just plain tied up."

"I'll call him," she promised. "And from now on I'll leave you so many messages you'll know my schedule better than me, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled. "I'm going to go to bed, give you a little privacy when you call Jonas. Oh, and the mood he's in? I wouldn't be surprised if you get flowers tomorrow."

Sam laughed, throwing one of the small couch pillows at her room mate. "We're *not* going to fight!"

"I wouldn't lay money on that!" Sheila taunted, dodging the pillow. "'Night, Sam."

"'Night, Sheila. Thanks for running interference for me with Jonas."

"No sweat. Just keep the shouting down," she grinned, disappearing into her room.

Sam sucked in a deep breath then slowly exhaled. Had she been trying to convince Sheila there would be no fight or herself? She knew Jonas was going to be upset, whether he had a right to be or not.

*********

The phone hadn't even rung on her end before Jonas picked up.

"Hi, Jonas."

"Sam! God! Where have you been? Sheila must think I'm some kind of maniac with all the times I've called!"

"Well those weren't her exact words," she joked.

"Sam, this isn't funny! I was worried!"

Sam tried hard not to sigh. "Jonas, I'm sorry, okay? I really got wrapped up with something at work today. In fact, you won't believe this, but. . ."

"Christ, Sam! It's after eleven! You've been there all day?"

"Well, yeah, but. . ."

"You shouldn't work so hard."

"Jonas, it's not like I had a choice! I was in the middle of something! I can't just say, 'hey, sorry guys, it's 1700 hours, I gotta go before my fiancé worries.'"

Almost as if she hadn't spoken, Jonas suddenly changed topics. "I got my transfer today. That's why I kept calling, I wanted to let you know the news."

"Jonas, that's wonderful! I think half the time we could avoid these arguments if you weren't so far away, or gone on so many missions."

"I can't help that they keep sending me out," Jonas said, his voice hard.

"And I can't help it when I have to work late on a project," Sam reminded him.

"Okay, you got me there," he finally agreed. "I'm going to move as soon as I can. You going to be around to help me settle in?"

"I think so, I can't promise anything, though." She didn't want to tell him she needed to get some flight time in. He'd attempted a second time to be reinstated as a pilot and his failure was still a sore spot with him.

"Try, okay?"

"I will. I should go. I love you."

"I love you, too, Sam. I can't wait to see you."

Sam hung up the phone, feeling strangely uneasy. It wasn't something she could put her finger on. She hated it when Jonas started lecturing on her work habits when his schedule was even more demanding than hers, but it was more than that. Maybe it was because he hadn't shown any interest in what she'd accomplished that day. Although she couldn't give him details, Sam was excited by what she'd done and he didn't even give her the chance to tell him. Well, he was probably just eager to tell her they would be together soon. Or as together as they could be with him gone so much. She began to wonder if this move would actually make much difference in the amount of time they spent together. She hoped so. Jonas might as well be a stranger for all she saw of him lately.

*********

Disappointment seemed to follow Sam. After her initial success in getting the inner ring moving, she and the rest of her colleagues seemed to hit a brick wall. It was so frustrating to know they were starting to make progress, only to have that possibility taken away once more.

At least things were a little better at home, in a strange sort of way. Sam had practically moved in with Jonas--at least as far as the Air Force would allow. She still officially resided with Sheila, but every spare moment, she was at Jonas'. His room mate seemed to be on a schedule almost the opposite of Jonas, so it made it easy for Sam to stay over. Not that Steve cared. When he was home, he had so many different women, Sam joked he should have a "take a number" sign over the door to his room.

Sam and Jonas were curled up on the sofa, watching a rented movie when Jonas' hand started to wander. At first Sam just pushed his roving hand aside, but then he started getting a bit more insistent.

"Jonas! Come on! I really wanted to see this!"

"We can finish watching it later," he said, pulling her closer, nuzzling her neck.

Sam smiled but pushed him gently away. "There's only about a half an hour to go, and I have to go soon."

"I know, which is why I think we could be spending our time in better ways," he insisted, turning her face so she was looking at him rather than the TV.

Sam pulled her head from Jonas' grasp, sitting further up on the couch. "What part of 'no' didn't you understand?" she asked angrily.

Jonas sat up as well, running a hand through his short hair. "Message received loud and clear, Captain."

Softening at his hurt expression, Sam reached for the remote and turned off the television. "Jonas, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry, but everything always has to be on your terms lately. Would it have killed you to let me watch the end of the movie?"

Jonas hung his head. "No, it's just that you're going to be in Washington for the next few days, and before you get back, I'm going to be sent out. I thought we could spend some time together."

"I thought we were."

"You know what I meant, Generalette-Dr.-Ph.D." The words were teasing, but they were tinged with a bit of sarcasm as well. About the only time he brought up her degrees was when they were having an argument. Although this wasn't a full-scale fight like they've been having recently, she heard the resentment in his voice. It was ridiculous, but for some reason, especially lately, it bothered him she'd gotten further in school than he had.

Sam sighed. "Jonas, where is all this pressure coming from recently? You're constantly on me to set a date for the wedding, and I can't even watch a movie without you trying to dictate it!"

Jonas sat up and pushed her away as if he suddenly found her offensive. "I'm sorry I've been such a drag. Maybe they've got some kind of medal out there for putting up with me!"

"See? This is the kind of thing I'm talking about! I can't say anything to you without you getting defensive!" Taking a deep breath, she continued. "All I'm saying is that once in a while I'd like to decide what we do, and I'm not just talking about sex! You never want to go out anymore, socialize on any level. It's practically an act of God to get you to come over to my place and have dinner with Sheila and Darnel!"

"When I come home from a mission, I want to spend some time at home, is there anything wrong with that?"

"Of course not, but you're taking this to the extreme! I'm not saying you should be out in the bars every night--I'm glad you're not--but I don't think you realize how much pressure it puts on me. I always have to be available to do what you want to do, to be with you. I never seem to have the option of telling you I'm busy, or I'm going to be late, because you make it personal. Like because I have something to do, it's an attack on you personally."

"I love you. I want to be with you."

Trying not to sigh, Sam said, "it's not a matter of loving you or not. I love being with you too, but there are times I have other commitments and you have to understand that. It's not going to get any easier once we're married. The only difference is going to be I don't have a different address. Getting married isn't going to solve our problems."

"I didn't know we were having problems," he said, looking up at her as if she'd completely lost her mind. "What problems are we having?"

"Jonas! I just told you! This a prime example! You hear only what you want to hear, and you don't like it when I try to point it out." Sam rubbed her fingers across her forehead. "Look, maybe it would just be better if I went home. I'm tired, I've got a big day tomorrow, you've got drills. . . ."

"Fine. If that's what you want, just go. You know what your trouble is, Sam? You're used to always getting your way. Daddy's Little Girl who only has to stomp her foot and the world will rearrange itself to suit her. I don't need someone like you telling me *I'm* dictatorial."

Sam's eyes grew wide with shock. Totally speechless, she tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat as she reached for her jacket. "I, uh, guess I'll see you when you get back?"

"Sure! Why not? Why don't you pencil me in for Tuesday at 2000."

Sam blinked back tears as Jonas turned his back to her, not even bothering to get off the sofa. Without another word, she quietly left his house; the sound of the door closing behind her was as loud as if she'd slammed it.

Once in the cool night air, the tears that had threatened began to flow. She wasn't sobbing, or hysterical. The excess moisture simply refused to be blinked away any longer, and slowly ran over her cheeks.

She couldn't understand what was happening with them. She thought for sure once he lived closer, the arguments about spending time together would cease. Instead, they seemed to be getting worse. Jonas wanted to know where she was at any given hour, and the answer of "work," didn't seem to satisfy him. She remembered one particularly bitter fight they'd had when she'd told him she was working when in fact she'd just arrived home. He accused her of lying in an attempt to avoid him, and it had taken many hours of placating him before he actually believed her. Or at least let the subject drop.

When had he become so paranoid? And if he was still in therapy, would he be exhibiting such behavior? She didn't have to ask Jonas to know he hadn't seen Dr. Fredricks in some time. And she was sure he hadn't talked to anyone since coming to Peterson. Didn't he realize he needed to talk to someone even more now that he was in Special Ops? It wouldn't be so bad if he'd talk to her, but when ever she brought up the subject, Jonas immediately shut down, claiming he had enough of his missions when he was on them.

Of course she wasn't entirely blameless. She let him get away with that kind of behavior just so they wouldn't fight, but where was it going to end? He kept pressuring her to set a wedding date, but the more Sam thought about it, the less sure she was she wanted to marry him. It wasn't a matter of love. She loved him and wanted to be with him, but not when he was in a mood like this. Now she had the option of walking away, but what about after they were married?

Looking up, Sam realized she was at her door. Contemplating walking on to try to sort out her feelings, she thought it might be better if she talked to Sheila. Opening the door, Sam caught Darnel and Sheila in a rather intimate embrace. Fortunately for everyone, clothing was still on, just slightly askew.

"Oh, God, guys! I'm sorry!" Sam gasped as she began to back out of the door.

Struggling to her feet, Sheila called out, "Sam! Wait! You don't have to go!" She was straightening her sweater as she caught Sam just outside the entrance. Pulling the door shut behind her, Sheila's hand reached out to keep Sam from leaving the porch.

"Sheila, I'm so sorry, I didn't know Darnel was coming over tonight and I. . ."

"Sam! It's okay! I didn't know he was coming over either. I just figured as long as you were at Jonas' you probably wouldn't be home until late, or at all."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Sam tried not to shiver as the cold only seemed heightened by her emotional state.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Sheila asked. "You guys fight again?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "About the same old stupid stuff. He just doesn't get it, Sheila! I don't know how many times I've tried to talk to him about this 'control' thing he's got going on, but he just doesn't see it. He says it's all me, that I'm the one causing the problems. That once I set a date, everything is going to be fine. But what good is that going to do?" Sam asked, looking up at the concerned face of her friend. "The same problems are going to be there. Frankly, I don't know how smart it is going into a marriage with these kinds of issues between us."

"You did right by not giving into him," Sheila said, putting her arm over her shoulder. "And don't let him pressure you into getting married if you're not comfortable with it."

Sam wiped her eyes, nodding.

"Come inside. I'll make you some hot chocolate and we'll talk some more, okay?"

"What about Darnel?"

"I'll make him some hot chocolate too," she smiled.

"Sheila, I don't want to ruin your evening!"

"You're not ruing anything. Darnel understands. In fact, I don't think he's one of Jonas' biggest fans," Sheila confessed.

Sam's head popped up. "I didn't know he didn't like him."

"I didn't say that. He's just mentioned he doesn't like the way Jonas treats you. To be honest, neither do I."

"I wish you would have known him when I first met him. He was so thoughtful. It's hard to believe he could change so much in a little more than a year."

"He's in one of the most stressful jobs the Air Force has. I can't say I'm surprised."

"I know. If he's so big on us getting married, thinking it will solve our problems, why isn't he trying to do something other than Special Ops? It's eating him alive and he won't even consider a transfer. It's like he's still trying to punish himself for the loss of his men in the Gulf. I don't expect him to get over something like that, but he doesn't see how this is hurting me as much as it is him."

"Or maybe he does."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't think he's intentionally trying to hurt you, Sam. I believe there's a part of him that truly loves you, but on a subconscious level I think he resents you as well."

"Resents me?

"Well, think about it, you're everything he's not. You come from a well-respected military family; your father's a General; you're smart; you have a great military record with your performance in Desert Storm. Shall I go on?"

"But Sheila, that's what makes his accomplishments all that much more than mine! He's overcome so many obstacles and he keeps going!"

"I'm just saying it might be how he views things. And if he has 'control' over you, he's proving to himself he's just as good as you. Even though he acts arrogant, I think deep down he doesn't feel worthy of you, and once you're finally married to him, he's going to think he's 'made it.'"

"I guess I never thought of it that way," Sam said quietly. Looking back up at Sheila she said, "I don't know how to convince him he's wrong, when he'll just deny that's why he's acting this way. And I can't marry him just to shore up his ego."

"I don't think you should," Sheila said. "I'm not saying you have to break things off with him but maybe just some time apart?"

Sam laughed. "All we have is time apart. I don't know if that's the answer. I just wish he hadn't stopped his therapy," she said, looking down at her hands. "It seemed to be helping, but I think he thought he was 'cured' because things were good between us."

"Look," Sheila said, "I don't think we're going to solve the world's problems out here, freezing on the porch. Let's go get that hot chocolate and talk some more inside, okay?"

Sam gave her a weak smile, nodding. "Thanks Sheila. I don't know what I'd do without you."

*********

On to Part 4

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