It was a task that didn’t get any easier, no matter how many times he had to do it. Normally it was news he had to deliver over the telephone, but when time and geography allowed for it, George Hammond preferred to have this conversation face-to-face. Although neither time nor geography was on their side on this occasion, the telephone was not an option and, after everything his father had done for the people of Earth, Rya’c deserved to hear this news in person.
“It’s a lovely day, sir,” said Janet, though there was sadness in her voice. Hammond couldn’t disagree with her. The sun blazed in a clear blue sky as they made their way from the gate to the town square, and Hammond could smell the heady fragrance of whatever purple flower flourished in the nearby fields; the Land of Light was a beautiful planet on which to make a home and the weather made no allowance for grief.
He was glad that Janet had requested to come with him. She had cited her friendship with Teal’c as a reason, but he suspected she knew just how much he needed a friend by his side for this trip. The doctor was no stranger to delivering bad news, and he could rely on her to offer support when the time came.
A figure approached from the direction of the square and Hammond guessed who it was before she was close enough to make out her face. He had already broken the news to Drey’auc over a MALP link and, as she drew closer, he could see that she had been crying.
“General Hammond, Dr. Fraiser,” she said with a short bow, “it is good to see you both, though this day is a sad one.”
“Drey’auc,” he said, inclining his head in return. “I can’t tell you how much I wish this visit was for a happier reason. Does he know?”
Drey’auc shook her head. Her eyes glistened and he knew that she was struggling to hold tears at bay. “No, I was happy to grant your request and allow you to tell him. He is at home. Come.”
He and Janet followed Drey’auc through the town, a picturesque collection of twin story buildings in some sort of stucco. The townspeople watched them pass with curiosity, and the occasional smile, but no suspicion. This was a good place to raise a family, he could tell, something that Teal’c would never know.
And there it was. The guilt. It was delayed this time, or maybe early, but he had known it would come. It always did. During the conversation with the parents who had been so proud of their boy, the sister who would say how much her kids had loved their aunt, and asked how was she supposed to tell them that she wouldn’t be visiting on their birthdays anymore, the wife who smiled through tears and thanked him for coming, all the while left with a war widow’s pension instead of a husband. The son whose father had left to fight a war in a far off place and had paid the ultimate price.
A hand on his elbow stopped him in his tracks and he glanced back to find Janet looking up at him. “We’re the ones who give them the news, sir. They’re angry and hurt and don’t want to hear what you’re saying, but we say it anyway and we take whatever they throw at us. Because we’re the ones who give them the news.”
Hammond swallowed the sudden thickness in his throat and nodded. He was glad Janet had come with him. Up ahead, Drey’auc waited outside a small house set back somewhat from the main square, watching them with quiet interest. They made their way towards her.
On most occasions, and for most people, it was clear from the very fact of the phone call or the visit from a high ranking Air Force general that something was wrong. Most people knew, he could always tell from the change in their tone of voice, or in the way their features fell when they saw the uniform. Hammond was not an unfamiliar face to Rya’c, however, and the boy had no frame of reference as to what this visit could mean. So when he came down the stairs, his expression was one of affable curiosity. Hammond could see how the boy had grown; a young man now — the man of the house.
“General Hammond, my mother did not tell me you were coming.” He stopped, his feet mid-step between the first and second stair, and he looked over Hammond’s shoulder. “Dr. Fraiser.” His expression was puzzled now, wary. He glanced over at his mother. “Why are they here? Why… why are you crying?”
Hammond removed his hat and stepped forward. “Rya’c, I’m sorry to be the one to bring this news —”
“No…” Rya’c began to back up the stairs, as if distance could forestall the inevitable.
“— but I’m afraid your father has been —”
“No!” He pressed his hands over his ears and Hammond could see the young boy once more, the one who had come to Stargate Command a year ago, who had been saved by the man who was now lost to them.
“I’m sorry, son. He’s missing. And we fear the worst.”
Rya’c dropped, landing heavily on the stairs, his head in his hands, and his mother ran to him. He didn’t weep openly, and whether that was from the Jaffa ideal that emotion was a weakness, something to be repressed, or from the simple shock at the news, Hammond didn’t know. The boy let himself be guided to his feet by Drey’auc and led to the large wooden table and chairs in the center of the room. His mother sat down next to him, her arm around his shoulders.
“He was a good man, Rya’c,” said Hammond. “A good warrior. You should be very proud of him.”
When Rya’c finally spoke, his voice was choked with unshed tears. But also anger. “He should not have died for the Tau’ri.”
Hammond had expected this, but still was unsure how to respond. “Son —”
“No!” His hand banged onto the table, and finally he looked Hammond in the eye. “He had his own people. His own war. Why did he leave us to fight for a world which cared nothing for the people of Chulak or the slaves of Apophis?”
Hammond said nothing. It would do no good to tell Rya’c he was wrong. Janet was right. He was the one who gave them the news. Let the boy’s grief manifest itself in whatever way necessary. He had that right.
In fact, it was Drey’auc who tried to talk her son around. “Rya’c, your father fought for us all. You know that. If it was not fighting on the side of the Tau’ri, he could have died among the ranks of the Jaffa resistance. He died fighting for the freedom of us all. We should take solace from that.”
Rya’c’s lips turned down in a grimace of both sorrow and anger. “I will not.”
“My son…”
“I will not accept this! Where is his body?”
This time it was Janet who spoke up. “I’m afraid we have no body, Rya’c. At this stage, Teal’c’s official status is Missing, Presumed Dead. But the fear is… we think there may be no body to recover.”
With a defiant lift of his chin, Rya’c said, “Then you have no proof that my father is truly dead?”
Every fiber of Hammond’s being wanted to say No, Rya’c. No, we have no proof and I don’t accept it either. I know your father isn’t dead. I know that he and the rest of SG-1 are still out there somewhere. But he was a Brigadier General in the US Air Force, he spoke on behalf of the United States government, and he acted on behalf of the entire world. He could not let his own feelings, his own instincts, influence him here. So instead he said, “Rya’c, your father was more than a soldier to me, he was a friend. I can’t express how much his loss will be felt. But I see him in you. I see his finest qualities handed down to his son. There is a lot I can’t tell you right now, son, but know this. A storm is coming and it’ll hit hard. We need fine men, Rya’c. We need leaders. No matter what happens now, I know you will live his legacy.”
As Hammond spoke, calm came over Rya’c. He stood and faced him, and it was only then that Hammond realized the young man was of a height with him. “You’re wrong, General,” he said. “A storm may be coming, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that my people weather it. But my father is not dead. He is out there, somewhere, and I shall not rest until he is found. One way or another, I will see him again.”