President A. Franklin Jefferson rolled over and swatted his alarm clock with a groan. Opening first one eye, then the other, he squinted at the bedside clock. It was six am, his usual wake-up time, but for some reason it felt much earlier. Rolling onto his back, Jefferson brought his forearm to rest against his forehead as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. //Tell me again, why I ran for office?// he wondered. Just as his eyelids dropped drowsily, the telephone beside the bed rang.
"Yeah?" Jefferson asked. His voice was still groggy, deep and coarse.
"It's five-minutes-after-six, Mister President," came a friendly female voice. It sounded to Frank as though she had been awake for hours.
"Thanks," he said. He dropped the phone back into the base, swinging his feet to the floor. Rubbing his face briskly with his palms, he attempted to shake off the fatigue which threatened to overtake him still. Placing his palms down against the mattress, Jefferson then shoved himself to his feet. "And so it begins," he muttered.
Crossing the room, he opened the door to the head of his security detail, Catherine Hammond. "Good morning, Mister President," she said in a voice that was all together too cheerful. She handed Jefferson a fresh copy of the morning paper. "Sleep well, sir?"
Frank rubbed his eyes again, taking the paper. "No, I didn't," he answered sharply. "And for God's sake, Cat, stop being so damned cheerful. I've known you for fifteen years and not once, in all that time, have I ever known you to be a morning person."
"Yes, sir," Hammond said. Her smile slipped into a lopsided grin. "Indulge a little too much at the party last night, sir?"
"You could say that," Jefferson crossed the room, switching on a lamp and flopping onto the lushly upholstered sofa. He got a small twinge of satisfaction when Catherine flinched. He tossed the thick paper onto the table with a loud *thwack*, immediately digging out the sports section. "So what's on my agenda this morning?"
Hammond slipped into the room, careful to leave the door open. She tucked a short strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, lowering herself onto the sofa opposite Jefferson. "You've got a meeting with the Chief of Staff at seven-fifteen, and after that -- at seven-forty-five -- a meeting with General Davenport."
"Davenport? Which one is he?" Frank blinked, looking over the hockey page to Hammond.
"Chief of Staff of the Air Force, Mister President." Catherine sat forward, balancing her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands in mid-air. "You sure you're ready for this, sir? I mean, you *are* going to have to know the Chiefs of Staff eventually."
"Eventually? Hell, Cat, it's my third day on the job!"
"Didn't you pay attention to the briefings?"
"What briefings?"
"Sir!" Catherine looked to her president, aghast.
Jefferson regarded his Secret Service agent, his expression unreadable. "Are you trying to tell me how to run my administration, Miss Hammond?" There was a slight edge to his voice, the sports section momentarily forgotten.
"I..." Hammond blinked; she was at a loss for words.
"At ease, Cat," Frank said, his expression eventually softening to a chuckle. A gleam danced in his hazel eyes. "Of course I paid attention in the briefings. Just gets confusing, that's all; I spent my life in the intelligence field, not in uniform." He sighed, closing and tossing aside his sports section. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'd better hit the shower."
Catherine pushed herself up out of her seat. "Of course, sir," she said, quickly snapping back into professional mode. She paused a moment, smoothing out the seams in her slacks, then watching as Jefferson disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.
"And do me a favor?" Frank poked his head around the corner.
"Sir?"
"Stop calling me sir."
A sadness flickered across Catherine's dark eyes briefly, then was gone. "You know I can't do that, sir." Frank's lips drew into a line. He nodded, accepting her answer. "Well, make sure you close the door on the way out," he said. "Hate to scandalize myself first day in office."
"Understood, sir." Hammond gave him a wary smile, and Jefferson watched as she stepped out into the corridor, quietly closing the door behind her. He paused a moment, staring after her. Clearing his throat, he shook his head, heading for a hot shower.
***
TSGT Marion Vickery sat in the SGC control room, his feet propped up onto the console. Yawning, he flopped through the latest issue of "Field and Stream," actively thinking about his upcoming leave. A faint smile crept across his lips. A single tent, a single sleeping bag, both within the back-woods of southern Georgia, two hours from the nearest military base, and -- most importantly -- half a continent away from Cheyenne Mountain.
Not that he didn't enjoy his work; SGC was a plum assignment -- when it wasn't boring as hell. //Like now,// he thought.
"Incoming traveller!"
Vickery bolted upright, sending the magazine fluttering to the cement floor. His hands came to rest in home position on the keyboard as the red lights began to flash. Over his right shoulder, he saw General Hammond enter. //Doesn't he ever sleep?// Vickery wondered. He keyed the signal recognition sequence. "It's SG-1, sir," he said.
Hammond nodded once. Hovering behind Vickery's right shoulder, he watched through the plexiglas as the four members of SG-1 shot out of the generated wormhole at high speed. Teal'c, the tall, imposing Jaffa rolled down the ramp in a somersault, followed by Daniel Jackson. Next, almost in a half-pike position came Major Samantha Carter. She landed hard against the metal grating, wincing as she made contact. Behind her came Colonel Jack O'Neill, making a dive over Carter, and rolling to a halt, his upper torso hanging off the ramp, his feet pointed toward the gateroom entrance.
Grabbing the microphone, Hammond triggered the intercom. "Medical unit to the gateroom!" Turning on his heel, he bolted down the spiraling staircase, charging into the gateroom just as the medical team arrived.
"I *really* hate it when that happens," O'Neill complained, still laying on his back. He reached up, unbuckling his helmet, shoving it off his head. He winced as his head hit the concrete flooring a little harder than he had anticipated. "Ow." A medical specialist knelt beside him, checking his pulse rate.
Carter sat up gingerly, Dr. Janet Frasier rushing to her side. "But Janet loves it," she commented. She shook her head at Janet. "I'm fine." She carefully managed to her feet.
Frazier smiled, moving over and assisting Daniel Jackson to his feet. "I can always trust SG-1 to keep me busy," she teased.
Daniel frowned, pulling off his glasses and examining them. Their "crash" landing had shattered the lenses within the frames, the left hinged leg hanging at an awkward angle. He straightened it, looking to Jack. "What the hell *was* that?"
Behind him, Teal'c sat up, uninjured. "I believe it is what you might call a 'sneak attack,' DanielJackson," he said. His expression showed no signs of emotion.
"I understand that, Teal'c, but what *caused* it?"
O'Neill paused at the gateroom door, waiting as the rest of the team caught up. "Oh, Carter probably just looked at 'em the wrong way or something," he said. He cast a glance to Sam, a mischievous gleam in his dark brown eyes.
Sam blinked, indignant. "Why is it always *my* fault?" she questioned, raising her brows.
"Well, *I* didn't do anything," O'Neill insisted. He fought the grin that threatened to surface.
The corners of Sam's lips turned upward as her own grin threatened. "Sir, sometimes charging in with guns blazing is enough," she replied. She stepped aside as General Hammond joined the group.
"As much as I'm enjoying this...debate," he said, "we've got a debriefing to do. Get showered and cleaned up. Debrief in one hour." Sam and Jack exchanged shrugs as Hammond pushed past them and into the corridor.
***
"You've *got* to be shitting me."
General Isaac Davenport blinked, looking to his Commander in Chief. The four-star had heard many a tale concerning the president's unconventional attitude but had not yet witnessed it. He got a sinking feeling it was about to rear its head. "Sir?"
"A *stargate?* Interplanetary travel? Alien threats with worms in their stomachs?" Frank looked to the Chief of Staff of the Air Force with his brows raised, his voice intoning his skepticism. "General, this reads like an issue of a five-cent comic."
"I'm aware of that, sir," Davenport began slowly, "however, this program does exist. It has been in operation since the second year of your predecessor's term."
"And the appropriations committee has signed off on this?"
"Barely, sir, but yes, they have."
Jefferson's expression clouded, exchanging glances with Catherine, who stood behind General Davenport. She leant against the fireplace mantle, her arms folded across her chest. He looked to Davenport and sighed. "All right. What am I supposed to do about it now?"
The general paused, shifting in his chair. "Due to the nature of this program, your support is needed for it to continue. In order for you to get a better feel for what the gate teams are doing, who they are, we've arranged a guided tour with the base commander."
"When?"
"This afternoon."
"And I wasn't told about this?" Both men turned as Catherine crossed the room to take a place beside General Davenport. "Do you know how long it takes to do an advance security sweep before a Presidential visit? My team has never even *seen* the site, much less surveyed it!"
Davenport looked from Hammond to Jefferson and back again. "No, Agent Hammond, we did not. This is a top secret, military installation, over thirty floors below the surface. Without proper identification and clearance, no one -- I repeat *no one* -- makes it past the reception desk. We did not feel an advance was necessary."
"It's always *necessary,*" Catherine shot back. "We'd have to check the air field, the personnel...and what about this 'alien threat' he mentioned? Are they still a threat? Can they get into the facility?"
Frank raised his hands. "Whoa, folks, back up," he said. "I've spent too many years assisting in profiles to think that an advance is not necessary --" Catherine straightened -- "but I also know that the Air Force security staff would do their best to assist in the matter." He looked to Cat as she opened her mouth to speak. "Get on the phone with their security liaison and get the ball rolling."
"But sir --"
"Don't 'but sir' me, Cat. This is an important decision, and one that I will not make uninformed."
"Yes, sir." Grimacing, she stepped to the back of the room, slipping her concealed microphone into her palm. Bringing it to her lips, she began to speak into it quietly.
***
COL O'Neill regarded his reflection, his eyes drifting over every decoration on his dress blue uniform. //Ribbons, one...two...three...four... *seven* rows, above but not on the pocket... Insignia, centered from left to right, 5/8 of an inch from edge of epaulets,// he thought, mentally reviewing the uniform regulations. //Pants, seams on sides, press down the center of the leg... shoes shined... Anything I'm forgetting?//
"You clean up pretty well, sir."
Looking up, O'Neill spotted Carter in the reflection. He turned with a grin, finding her standing in the open doorway. As usual, her dress blues were impeccable, right down to the regulation patent leather pumps; he loved the way the light and dark blue played against her blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. "Thank you, Major," he said. "You look... great." Suddenly he felt like an adolescent on his first date with the most popular girl in school.
Sam chuckled. "Thank you, sir," she said with a smile. She crossed the room to join him. "But you're still having trouble with your tie." Reaching over, she grasped his tie, straightening it around the collar so that it was perfectly in line with his blazer and shirt buttons.
Jack looked at her, feeling her fingers delicately brush the skin just above his collar. He held her eyes with his own intense, dark eyes; an impish gleam flickered behind the intensity. "No, I'm not," he protested. His voice dropped to a lower tone. "I just knew you'd fix it for me." He grinned. "Always looking out for me."
"Someone's gotta keep you straight," Carter replied. She stopped, her hands coming to rest against his chest.
"In more ways than one," O'Neill replied. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers.
"Ahem."
Jack closed his eyes. "I'd know that ahem anywhere," he muttered. "Go away, Daniel!"
In the doorway, Daniel stuffed one hand into the pocket of his slacks, the other hand reaching to straighten his "reserve" glasses; they were older and heavier, feeling odd as they rested across the bridge of his nose. "Uhm, President Jefferson is en route from the air field." He cleared his throat again. "General Hammond expects him here in another ten minutes."
Sam gave Jack a rueful smile. "Duty before play, remember?"
O'Neill sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah," he agreed. He kissed her soundly on the forehead, his left hand holding her right. His index finger brushed against the antique bridal set on her hand. "Later." Giving her hand a final squeeze, he stepped around her, joining Daniel in the hallway; Sam was two steps behind.
"So," Jack began as they fell into step, "any ideas on which way this is going to go?"
"Well, I kinda thought that was up to you and Sam, but I ..." Daniel readjusted his glasses.
"Not *that*," Jack corrected, casting Daniel a sideways glance. "The *President.*"
"Oh, that," Daniel replied. He licked his lips as they rounded the corner, headed toward the control room. "It's difficult to judge, really. President Jefferson spent a great deal of time as an operative for the CIA before retiring to the NSA as an analyst. I'm guessing he knows a good source of intelligence when he sees it. So, with the Goa'uld established as a threat, its entirely possible he'll see the Stargate as important as we do."
"On the other hand, the president is well-known for his integrity," Sam pointed out. She opened the door to the control room. "If there is a secret he feels the American public should know about, he'll fight tooth and nail to declassify it. Just look at the whole Area 51 mess."
"Maybourne must love it," Jack muttered. He followed Sam into the control room, holding the door open for Daniel. "So, it really could go either way?"
"Unfortunately, sir," Sam said.
Jack allowed his distaste to show on his expression. "Great." He nodded first to General Hammond as they entered the conference room, then to the awaiting Teal'c. "Sir, Teal'c."
Teal'c bowed his head slightly. "ColonelO'Neill."
Hammond returned the nod. "Colonel, SG-1," he said. "I've just received word that President Jefferson has been admitted topside. His security detail will be escorting him down."
"No personal meet and greet?" Jack raised his brows.
"Not this time," the general replied. "I was on the phone with General Davenport when he arrived."
"Any words of advice, sir?" Sam smoothed her hands over her uniform jacket. Despite herself, she was nervous.
"Be yourselves," Hammond replied, then shrugged. "Other than that, none whatsoever. By all reports, he is even-tempered with a somewhat...off-center... sense of humor. This is my first meeting with the president since his election, and the verdict is still out as to how true-to-life his campaign commercials were."
Daniel looked to Jack. "Right up your alley." He gave a grin.
"Thanks... I think."
At that moment, a sergeant entered, coming to attention just inside the door frame. "Attention!"
"Speak of the devil," Jack mumbled, moving to attention. A surreptitious glance found Carter fighting a smile.
As they watched, a taller man -- approximately six feet in height -- with close-cropped, dark brown hair entered, clad in a dark suit. Observant blue eyes swept over the room, and his nose twitched slightly as he pursed his lips. O'Neill, Carter, and Daniel immediately recognized him as President Angus Franklin Jefferson.
Hammond was the first to react. He rounded the end of the table, crossing to greet the president. "Mister President, welcome to Stargate Command. I am Major General George S. Hammond, base commander."
The president extended a hand, his face breaking into a smile. "A pleasure to meet you, General," he said. He glanced over his shoulder as a tall brunette entered, dressed in a tailored black suit. She looked immediately to Jefferson.
"The perimeter has been secured, Mister President," she informed him. Her eyes drifted to General Hammond. "Uncle George?" Her brows furrowed.
"Catherine?"
The brunette wrapped the general in a hug. "I didn't know --"
Sam looked to Jack, raising her brows. His expression mirrored hers. "*Uncle George?*" they questioned simultaneously.
"I see you've already met the head of my security detail." A wry grin curved the corners of Jefferson's mouth.
//I'm gonna like this guy,// O'Neill thought, seeing the president's grin. //Too bad I didn't vote for him.//
General Hammond released his niece, returning his attention to the matters at hand. "Mister President...Catherine, may I present Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c. These four comprise the first of our teams, designated SG-1."
Jefferson's eyes studied the countenance of each team member as they stood at attention. "As you were," he said. He looked to Jack, extending his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Colonel. Your mission reports make for ... interesting ... reading."
"Thank you, sir," O'Neill replied, shaking the president's hand. "They keep trying to offer me a book deal, but..."
At this, Jefferson chuckled. "That whole security clearance thing getting in the way?"
"You could say that, sir," Jack replied. //Oh, yeah. Definitely gonna like him.//
Franklin smiled, moving to greet Sam. "Major, Carter," he said, "congratulations on your promotion."
Sam smiled. "Thank you, sir."
"And the infamous Doctor Jackson," Jefferson said. "I understand we have your insistence to thank for helping defeat the Goa'uld ships."
Daniel blushed. "That was some time ago..." He glanced to Jack, then back to the president. "Uhm, thank you, sir."
Jefferson chuckled at Daniel's embarrassment, shaking his head as he then moved to greet Teal'c. He bowed his head in the manner which Davenport had demonstrated earlier in the day. "It is an honor to meet you, Teal'c."
Teal'c bowed his own head. "And an honor to meet you, PresidentJefferson."
"Now that you've met SG-1, Mister President, perhaps you'd like to begin the tour? I do realize your time is limited."
"Yes, it is, General," Jefferson replied. He gestured toward the door. "If you'd like to lead the way...."
"Thank you, Mister President." Hammond looked to Carter, O'Neill, Jackson and Teal'c. "Sg-1." He then headed out the door, closely followed by President Jefferson, Catherine Hammond, and the remaining United States Secret Service detail.
SG-1 paused, Daniel's expression distorted into one of confusion. "Infamous? I thought you were the infamous one, Jack."
O'Neill shrugged. "Things change. Must be mellowing in my old age." He winked at Sam, then clapped Daniel on the shoulder. "Come on, Danny-boy. Let's go play tour guide."
Sam filed out behind Jack, followed by Teal'c. Daniel hesitated a moment longer, his brow still furrowed. "*Infamous?*" Blinking, he looked up, finding the room empty. "Hey! Wait!" he called, jogging after them.
***
"So... what do you think?"
Sam glanced at Jack, watching as he took a long sip from his soda, leant forward slightly, his weight on his forearms. She sipped her own drink. "I like him."
"You do, huh?"
"Mmmhmm." She smiled at Daniel and Teal'c as the two lowered themselves into the two empty seats remaining at the table. "Do you?"
"Strangely, yes." O'Neill noisily drained the last of his drink through the straw.
"He's definitely more personable than our last president," Daniel commented, poking at the greenery that resembled a salad. He frowned at the brown edges on some of the more wilted lettuce.
Still milking his drink for all it was worth, O'Neill glanced across the room where General Hammond, President Jefferson, and the security detail were seated at the VIP table. As Jack continued to watch, Catherine Hammond tossed her head back with a laugh; he noted the way Jefferson's eyes took in every curve, line, and wrinkle of Catherine's face. "I don't know..." he began, pausing. He watched for another moment, his eyes slightly narrowed in contemplation. //I know that look.// "I'm thinkin' they got history."
Daniel sighed, putting down his fork. He exchanged a glance with Sam. "Here we go again," he muttered.
Carter followed O'Neill's gaze, watching Catherine Hammond and President Jefferson. "General Hammond *did* say they had worked together before. Maybe they're --" She stopped short, watching as Catherine straightened the president's tie. Her watchful eye took in the expression with which Catherine regarded her boss. //I know that look,// Sam thought, remembering her moment with O'Neill that morning. She looked to Jack. "I'm thinkin' you're right."
"If they worked together previously, do they not already have 'history?'" Teal'c asked. His eyebrow arched in curiosity.
"Yes," Daniel began to explain, "but I think, what Jack is inferring, is that President Jefferson and Agent Hammond may have been... involved... at some time in their mutual past."
"I see." Teal'c pondered this for a moment, a Tau'ri phrase springing to mind, one which he had heard often. "Perhaps it is the glass house and the kettle."
Jack blinked, shaking his head. "What?"
Sam gave a wry grin. "I think you mean the pot calling the kettle black, Teal'c."
Daniel looked to Jack with bemusement. "He who lives in a glass house should not throw stones," he elaborated. He picked up his fork, stuffing in a bite of salad. He looked from Jack's annoyed expression to Sam's grin.
"I'm gonna go get another soda," O'Neill said at length. He looked to Sam. "You need anything?"
Carter continued to grin up at him. "No, I think I'm fine." She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.
Jack regarded her skeptically. "Mmmhmm. Yeah." With that, he turned and headed for the soda machine. He paused as heard Sam and Daniel bust into a low-toned fit of laughter. Shaking his head, he continued on his way. //Things just keep getting more interesting...//
***
President Jefferson watched as General Hammond wove his way through the knot of airmen gathered around the dessert cart, headed for the soda machine. To his left and right stood plain-clothed USSS agents, the clear, spiral cord of their earphone visible as they stood with their backs to Jefferson and Catherine Hammond. He leaned across the table, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So...what do you think?"
"What do I think about what?" Catherine winced as a sharp squeal ripped through the molded earpiece. She glared at an agent across the room. "Sean, turn down your mic," she said into her own microphone. The agent nodded and complied.
"About this...about this whole command." Jefferson gestured to the room at large.
"You're asking the wrong person, Fr...sir," Catherine replied. "I grew up watching Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, and Buck Rogers. I think this is the best thing since sliced bread... if you overlook the whole Goa'uld thing." She shrugged, sampling a taste of his pudding.
Frank watched as Catherine sampled the chocolate pudding, wrinkling her nose at the first taste. "Hazardous to my health?"
"I'd put that on the probable assassin list," Agent Hammond said. "At least it's not an MRE."
"That bad?"
"I don't even think Tobasco sauce could help that," she muttered. She tossed a sideways glance to a table across the room where SG-1 had settled for lunch. Major Carter and Dr. Jackson were fighting a bout of laughter; Teal'c merely sat, rarely speaking, a brow arched in what she could only describe as confusion. As she watched, Colonel O'Neill seated himself opposite Major Carter, having just returned from the soda fountain. He leaned in close to her, holding her eyes with his as he made what Catherine could only assume was another smart-alec comment. The colonel, it seemed, was full of sarcasm.
"What do you think of SG-1?" Catherine asked, then took a sip of her water.
Jefferson paused a moment, thinking. "A pretty good bunch," he said. "Colonel O'Neill's reports are a little...colorful, but they get the point across. From what your uncle has told me, they're the shining example for Stargate Command."
Catherine's brow creased. "Do you think... I mean, is it possible..." She sighed. //How to say this?// "Is it possible there's a little more than friendship between Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Just a few things I've picked up on," Catherine said. "A hand at the small of her back, the way he watches her..." She watched as Carter took O'Neill's own spoon and bowl of pudding, sampling some for herself. Cringing, Carter placed it back on the colonel's tray, along with his spoon; the major then made a comment to which O'Neill only shrugged.
//Okay, that was a little intimate...// Agent Hammond thought. She paled, then swallowed, realization dawning on her as she looked to the small serving bowl she now held. Hastily she placed Jefferson's pudding bowl back onto his own tray, slamming her spoon down... but not before the president reached the same conclusion. He cleared his throat. "I see what you mean."
Catherine stared at Frank for what seemed like forever. What she saw there frightened her: the same longing, fear, and confusion bubbling beneath the inscrutable dark brown eyes of her old friend that stirred behind her own mask of emotions. Was it only a matter of time, or could they fight this for four years?
As if on cue, General Hammond emerged from the knot of airmen, resuming his seat beside Catherine. Abruptly, both Catherine and President Jefferson looked down at their trays, each closing their eyes tightly. When Catherine looked up, her eyes were clear once again. She looked to her uncle. "Where to next, General?" she asked.
General Hammond narrowed his eyes briefly at his niece, opening his mouth to speak. Thinking better of it, he closed it. When he spoke, he answered her question, rather than asking his own. "I thought we'd move through to Major Carter's lab..."
***
"... and this is the heart of the SGC, the Gate Control Room," General Hammond said as the entourage filled into the small, electronics-filled room. "From here, we can 'dial' out, as well as identify any authorized incoming travellers." He swallowed, fighting the sore throat he could feel coming on. After over two hours of almost constant narration, he was glad they had reached the end of the guided tour.
"And who, exactly, qualifies as an 'authorized incoming traveller?'" Jefferson regarded Hammond, his arms folded across his chest, his feet shoulder-width apart.
"Anyone who has been issued an IDC -- or Identification Code -- by this command. This includes all of our SG teams, the Tok'ra -- whom you've been briefed about, as well as a few others who have been deemed risk-worthy. I have forwarded the files to General Davenport for your reference."
Jefferson nodded once, his gaze drifting out the plexiglas window and landing on the grey enigma below. As he watched, the inner ring began rotating, the chevrons clanking noisily into place. Behind him, a red light flashed on, and a klaxon sounded; the control panel came to life.
"Off-world activation!"
"IDC?" Hammond asked the staff sergeant.
"It's SG-11, sir. An hour early," the staff sergeant replied. He began tapping controls into the specially-designed keyboard.
Jefferson watched as the empty circle filled with light, splashing out into the drab room. Almost immediately, the light was drawn back into the circle, and it stabilized, much the way a pond calms after a stone has broken the surface. A figure -- shadowed against the wormhole -- emerged at high speed from the circle of light, arms flailing. As the figure drew closer, it was apparent that it was a soldier, clad in the tan color scheme of desert camouflage; the soldier immediately went to his knees, gasping for air. Split seconds later, three more team members emerged, apparently having entered the gate at steady clip. The last soldier through, the team commander, waved her arms at the control room. "Close the iris!" she shouted. She ducked as an arrow whizzed past her helmet-protected head, falling to the metal walkway without causing damage.
Before the president could blink, General Hammond and SG-1 had bolted through the blastdoors and were greeting SG-11; he watched as a metal iris formed from seemingly nowhere, sealing the gate. Exchanging a glance with Agent Hammond, he followed the general and SG-1.
General Hammond stood beside the team's commanding officer, his hands on his hips. "Commander, you and your team all right?" he asked as Jefferson approached. "As well as can be expected, General," the Naval commander said, removing her helmet. "I guess they really didn't want us to set up that listening post after all."
Hammond shook his head. "Did you or your team manage to get out any of the communications equipment?"
At this, the commander nodded. "Yes, sir. We managed to salvage a few components of our own, though most of it was lost in the ambush." She nodded in the general direction of her team. "Captain Alexander managed to smuggle out a few of the subspace components. They should be enough for Major Carter and myself to poke through."
"Very good." The general nodded. "President Jefferson, may I present Commander Rebecca Ryan, United States Navy," he said. "She recently joined Stargate Command on detached duty."
Jefferson waved a hand at Ryan as she began to move to attention. "As you were," he said, with the shake of his head. "Setting up a listening post?"
Ryan nodded. "Of sorts, sir. The Control Room had been picking up intermittent transmissions from various worlds when the stargates were activated. Closer analysis showed the Goa'uld were transmitting messages through subspace, much the way we do through radio frequencies. SG-1 stumbled on an abandoned listening post of alien origin, and we were assigned to establish it as our own." She glanced to Hammond.
The president pursed his lips, taking in Ryan's information. Hammond spoke before he could formulate his questions into words. "Any chances of renewing negotiations with the natives?"
"Doubtful, sir. As far as they're concerned, we're just as bad as the Goa'uld."
"Thank you, Commander. We'll convene for debrief in half an hour."
"Sir," Ryan said with a nod. She looked to the president. "Mister President." Turning to her team, she gave a loud whistle. "SG-11, hit the showers! Debrief in thirty!"
The president stood watching as SG-11 gathered their gear and began trudging out of the gate room and into the corridor. He looked to Hammond as Colonel O'Neill approached, his hand stuffed deep into the pockets of his slacks. "Does any mission ever goes as planned?"
Hammond deferred to O'Neill. "Honestly?" COL O'Neill asked, raising his brows. Jefferson nodded. "On occasion. But then, if everything went as planned, our lives here would be very dull."
Jefferson seemed to pause on this point for a moment before turning and heading back to the control room.
***
Seated at the conference table, Jack idly drummed his fingers on the tabletop to an unknown rhythm, pursing his lips and glancing about. Across from him sat Teal'c, his fingers intertwined, his hands resting on the polished wood. His expression was neutral, displaying little emotion as Jack fidgeted with nervous energy. Beside Teal'c was Daniel. Hearing Jack's fingers tapping against the tabletop, he glared up at the colonel over the rim of his glasses.
Sam reached over and closed her hand over Jack's fingers. "Sir...please."
O'Neill glanced down at their joined hands, then back to Sam. He raised his brows in silent communication. In return, Sam leveled a glare at him. //Don't get him started,// her eyes seemed to say. Jack offered a boyish smile. "Sorry." Daniel merely shook his head.
An uneasy moment of silence fell over the table. In a few moments, the fate of their careers would be revealed, each one wondering what they would do, should the Stargate Program be permanently closed. They were thoughts none had hoped to entertain again.
"Attention!"
The sergeant had appeared just inside the door frame, this time followed by General Hammond. Behind Hammond came President Jefferson, the Secret Service detail close in tow; Carter and O'Neill stood, popping to attention, while Daniel and Teal'c merely rose, standing with their hands clasped behind their backs.
"At ease," Jefferson said. He gestured to the seats the team had vacated. Watching as they resumed their seats, he leant forward against the back of a chair. He pursed his lips as he regarded each member of the team.
"I have spent most of my life in the service of this country, mostly in the intelligence field. I've served as a field operative, an analyst, a senator, and now as president. Nowhere, in any of those positions, did I ever hear of a program like this one. If I had, my National Intelligence Estimate would have evaluated this program as a clear and present danger to our own national security. Your reports show details of plagues, alien enemies, and other repercussions which have repeatedly threatened our very existence. When I arrived here this morning, I was completely prepared to shut down this program."
He paused, looking around the room again. "As an intelligence officer, however, I cannot deny what a powerful resource the Stargate can be -- both tactically and culturally. By learning more about these other, primitive cultures, we learn more about ourselves...where we come from, why we do what we do. It can indeed serve as a tool for greater analysis of political and military actions.
"And so, after much inner debate, I have decided... to continue the Stargate program throughout this administration, retaining all personnel and the current TS:SCI status." Jefferson cleared his throat, looking to O'Neill. "I will be following the reports very closely."
General Hammond was the first to his feet. "Thank you, Mister President," he managed.
Jack was next to his feet. "For once, sir, I'm speechless," he said with a nod. "Thank you."
Jefferson's eyes lit with a slight gleam. "No, thank *you*, Colonel," he said. "Your team has been extremely honest and forth-right with their commentary, answering my questions without hesitation. You believe in what you are doing here, and you believe in one another. I think that alone says a great deal about this program."
He looked to Hammond. "Thank you for your time, General. I do expect to hear from you in the near future." He shook the general's hand once more, then turned to Catherine. "Well, lead the way. Heaven forbid that an airman should pop out of the woodwork with an MP-5 and you not be there to take a bullet for me."
Catherine arched a brow. "Keep talking like that and I might be the one to give him the MP-5... *sir*," she commented. She smiled to her uncle. "Good luck, Uncle George." She took his hand and squeezed it once affectionately.
The general smiled. He gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"
Jefferson nodded once as Catherine stepped past him and began descending the staircase. With one last lopsided grin to SG-1, the president disappeared down the stairs.
O'Neill watched as the presidential entourage disappeared. "Well, we still have jobs," he said. He then looked to each member of his team. "Beer and pizza night? My place?"
Daniel coughed. "Actually, I have some texts that I really need to translate from, uhm, P3X 920. Captain Marshall brought them in on the last survey mission, and I...just haven't gotten to them yet."
"Teal'c?"
"I believe I have a prior engagement," Teal'c said.
Jack raised his brows. "Prior engagement, Teal'c? You're kidding, right?"
"I am not." Teal'c arched a brow at O'Neill, daring the human to contradict him.
"I'm sensing a theme here," the colonel said. "I take it your schedule is completely empty, Major?"
"Completely, sir." Sam nodded once. She cast a sideways glance as Daniel prodded Teal'c out of his chair and down the staircase to the control room. She smiled as Jack leant forward, placing her index finger to his lips. "*I* get to order the pizza this time."
He kissed her finger, reaching up and taking her hand in his. "Deal."
***
END
Story Notes: Natural Progressions 03: ramseysg11@springmail.com
SPOILERS: None
REQUIRED READING: "Courting Disaster," "Crossing Over"
ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack; Heliopolis; my own page (eventually); all others please ask.
Special thanks to Beth S. and Vanessa M. for beta reading.
SPOILERS: None
REQUIRED READING: "Courting Disaster," "Crossing Over"
ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack; Heliopolis; my own page (eventually); all others please ask.
Special thanks to Beth S. and Vanessa M. for beta reading.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]