Hammond firmly sat on the desire to curse out some of the Japanese officials responsible for blocking any and all attempts to make Midori Kirigaya an offer. By their lights, the SGC had kidnapped several thousand Japanese citizens, they wanted their people back, and anything they could do to make one General Hammond’s job harder was icing on the cake.
It’d taken him several unpleasant weeks and a truckload of bureaucratic bothering-by-the-book even to find out what the problem was. So far as he’d known, the SAO Incident Taskforce had been advised, the Japanese government had given them the green light, and Thor had transported everyone on schedule. What was the problem?
Not every translator is Dr. Jackson. Unfortunately.
Worse, among the twenty-odd languages Daniel did speak, Japanese wasn’t one of them. The SGC’s offer to move the patients for better care had, apparently, gone through. The reply that had come back – he’d tracked down the original text and three separate translators to be sure – had been translated as, That could be a little difficult.
What it meant was, No.
Or more frankly, Hell no, no way, get out of here, thank you so much for understanding.
But by the time he’d figured that out… well. What was he supposed to do, call the Supreme Commander of the Asgard fleets and say oops, please put them back? They’d already had a few deaths from moving the SAO victims once. How could he risk more lives?
Not to mention, Thor was the Supreme Commander of fleets currently in a slugging match against the System Lords and the Replicators. The odds of the Asgard being able to divert another ship to Earth for anything less than life-threatening emergencies were vanishingly low.
There were reasons for the antacids in his desk.