Ladies and gentlemen...may I present my very first attempt to write my own Stargate team. This is the story of SG:4...hope you like this...
Chapter One
This is insane, Sergeant Tiller thought as he looked down at his watch for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. He had been pacing the same hallway for over an hour and his temper was wearing thin--if this mole didn't hurry up they were going to miss their plane.
He looked at his watch again and sighed, two more minutes and I'm breaking down the door.
He turned down the hall and clasped his hands behind his back. This would never happen on a Marine Base. He wouldn't have to wait for a civilian that had no concept of time management or the schedule that he was on. And to add to his frustration, he was at Area 51—he hated this place.
Too many guards securing too many little hallways with too many civilians acting like they were doing something important.
His heels connected with the tile floor and the resounding thud echoed down the hall. The empty hallway reminded him of an insane asylum, the walls painted off white with harsh brown trimming and the floors had the most irritating white tile speckled with hash marks. He was use to being around people, and noise—the silence was killing him not to mention the jumpsuit he had to change into upon arriving was driving him crazy.
When he first pulled up to the gate he had argued with the guard that he was on official business and he didn't have to change out of his uniform—but in the end, the armed guard won the argument and Tiller changed into the kaki jumpsuit before taking the elevator down to sub-level 17, research and development.
He looked back down at his watch and grunted. He could be on leave right now. He could be sitting on the edge of his grandfather's lake with a cold beer and his lucky fishing hat. He could be on vacation. Instead he was here. Why did he turn back? Why hadn't he just run for the front gate when he picked up his leave papers? Why did he agree to it? They could have gotten anyone to do it. Any one could have escorted her. Why was he trying to be the standup guy? This always happened to him. He always got stuck with the jobs no one else wanted. He always got roped into these situations, always got stuck with the—
His thoughts were interrupted when the door behind him beeped open and a young woman stumbled through the door. Also dressed in a kaki jump suit, she attempted to balance a large cardboard box in her arms while kicking the door open with her foot. Once clear of the door, she balanced the box on her knee and revealed her face her eyes snapped to the stern looking Marine in front of her and she paled.
"Oh, hello. You must be Sergeant Taylor." Still fumbling with the box, she tried to free up one hand to shake his. She held her hand out a moment but he just stared at her and kept his hands clasped behind him.
He took slow glance at her appearance and he spoke, "Sergeant Tiller." It was a statement, not a reply and it got her attention.
She didn't like these military types, always so uptight and formal—she just didn't get it.
Her eyes rolled on cue and she balanced the box in both hands and used the edge of the box to push up her glasses. "Sergeant Tiller, I'm Doctor Martin--I apologize for being late—" Without warning he turned sharply and began walking down the hall to the elevator.
A heart beat later and she was trying to run after him without dropping the box but she couldn't catch up to him but still insisted on explaining her tardiness, "I didn't mean to be so late. Frey accidentally activated the ring transporter while he was standing on the pad and I had to decode the cipher text to bring him back, and then the—" He turned on his heels in one smooth motion, stopped flush against the box and glared down at her. He didn't say anything and she continued with her explanation, "And then we finally got him back—turns out he wound up in Giza…that's going to take some explaining…" she let her words falls silent in the room and looked up at him while she tried to balance the box again.
Another pause and he leaned forward, took the box out of her arms and continued towards the elevator.
She couldn't believe what had just happened--aside from everything else, he was a gentleman. A smile parted her lips and she ran up behind him. "How late are we? The plane won't leave without us will it?" she asked as he stopped before the elevator doors and punched a code in the elevator keypad. The doors opened and the guard inside nodded toward Tiller as he stepped into the elevator. The guard waited for Martin to stand at his side before swiping his code key and pressing the button for the surface.
"So…" she said leaning back against the wall of the elevator as the other two men stared blankly at the wall. "Are you being transferred too?" No answer. "Don't feel like talking huh? It's okay, silence is good."
A few moments later and the doors dinged open. Tiller walked out first and Ms. Martin followed him. All he wanted to do was get back into his own uniform and drop off the annoying blonde—then he could go fishing.
Martin turned the dial on her locker and popped the lock open. Changing into her skirt and dress shirt, she pulled on her over coat and headed for the door. Martin's chest tightened at the thought of having to deal with that Marine again and she stopped in front of the mirror to catch a glace at her disheveled appearance. Normally she would have put on make up or brushed out her hair—but she was already running late so she pulled a rubber band from her coat pocket and tied her hair up in a pony tail.
In the opposite side of the hall from Martin, Tiller was back in his uniform and was waiting for Martin at the final guard station.
She emerged from the locker room and followed him through the glass hallway with two-way mirrors along the right side. At the end of the hall a guard waited to check the box before they were cleared for the surface.
Tiller held the box silently as the guard waived a wand shaped detector over the box. Martin looked on and couldn't help but offering an explanation, "They have to make sure I'm not sneaking out any alien technology."
Again, he ignored her. Once the guard cleared them, Tiller began walking for the door that led to the parking lot. Without a word, he tossed the box in the back of a black HUMMVEE and got into the front seat and held on to the roll bar as Tiller sped off down to the flight line.
"You aren't going to talk to me are you?" she asked, trying to talk over the wind.
Tiller swerved to the right and back again as he tried to dodge another vehicle, "We have 8 mics to get to the air strip—that is unless you're up for a nice long road trip to Colorado." His voice was stern, like her father's—she had made up her mind that she didn't like this Marine.
Pulling her skirt down to her knees, Martin tried to keep from falling out of the truck, "Roger—I'm talking too much…I do that when I'm nervous and…I have a tendency to—talk when…I'm nervous…" he wasn't listening to her anymore and she decided it might be better if she just remained quiet for the rest of this trip.
Chapter Two
Star Gate Command was buzzing with activity and General O'Neill wasn't immune to the over-load of meetings and briefings for the new inbound personnel. But it was days like this that Jack liked being a desk jockey, where he could do more than sit behind a desk with his hands tied while everyone else was off world having fun. Today—it was his turn to have fun.
The office was quiet for the moment and Jack sat at his desk reading the four files he had been handed an hour ago--he couldn't help but smile at the fourth. He was assigning the new teams and these files were the last to get their team designator seals. He had been twirling the official stamp in his finger for the last few minutes and was just about ready to make it all official when there was a knock on his door.
Still holding the seal, Jack didn't look up from the files, "It's open!"
"Hello… General."
Jack recognized the voice and a sly grin grew on his face. The tone was one he was all too familiar with. The proper greeting was there but the tone was unique—as though his rank were a laughing matter.
"Frank," Jack said, as he stood and reached over the desk to shake the hand of the towering Marine Colonel before him.
"Brigadier O'Neill—I can't believe it." Colonel Bedard was quite possibly one of Jack O'Neill's oldest friends and he had the scars to prove it.
Jack smiled and nodded at the comment, "I think the same thing every day I come to work…" O'Neill said, taking his seat. He purposely leaned forward and rested his forearms on the files. "I got your team assignments, I was just about to—"
Frank sat in the chair and reached forward to stop Jack, "About that."
Jack squinted and sat back in his chair, "Problems already?"
Frank crossed his arms and sighed, "Felger." he didn't have to say anything else. The name brought a smile to O'Neill's face. He tried to hide it—but Frank knew better.
"He's a good man Frank."
Frank's mouth gaped open, "You can't be serious. Have you met him?"
Jack tried not to laugh, but just remembering his brief history with Felger made him smile, "Yeah, actually he saved my team once when we were captured—"
"You got caught on purpose…Sir." He couldn't help but slip into their old ways with one another—but Frank had to hold his tongue this time.
"Ok…so we did…but" settled in the fact that he was going to win this one, Jack admitted to himself that Felger did have a talent for screwing things up.
Seeing the superior smirk on Jack's face, Frank knew he was going to have to pull out the big guns to get his way, "What's the score now?" He asked abruptly. The question caught Jack off guard and he sat back in his chair as he pretended to count in the air.
"24…25…" he said just throwing out numbers.
Frank leaned forward and rested his hand on the desk again, "27/29—you owe me…you owe me two."
"No-" O'Neill said trying to think again.
"Bahrain." Frank said, glaring at him.
"That doesn't count," he said waiving him off.
"Oh—just like Algeria didn't count?"
"Ahh." He was trying to stall, but it wasn't going to happen. "That doesn't change the fact that I have no one to replace him—he's on the roster and he's due a team assignment."
"Jack, come on—this guy is going to get someone killed. Anybody…just not him." He pleaded.
Jack held up his hands, "I don't have anyone—" Another knock came at the door to save him, "Come in!" he called out.
The door cracked open and Walter walked in.
"Sorry to interrupt General, I have the in bound roster for you to sign. They'll be arriving this afternoon." Walter stood at the end of the desk and handed Jack a folder an inch thick.
Walter turned and walked out, leaving Jack and Frank in a stare down contest.
Frank eyed the folder and locked eyes with Jack, "First name on the top—that's all I'm asking."
"Frank—these are transfers from R&D, they aren't field trained—"
"I'll take anything…anything…"
Jack opened the file and looked at the first name on the inbound roster. His lips curled up into a devious grin, looked up at Frank and handed him the top sheet of paper.
Frank took the paper silently and sat back in his seat to read it over. The pain in his eyes was evident and he suddenly wished he had kept his mouth shut.
Jack was unable to suppress the laugh that was building up inside his chest and leaned into his palm to stifle the laugh, "There's your replacement."
Frank had been out maneuvered and he knew it. He should have known better than to play this game with Jack O'Neill—he always won. "You hate me don't you?" Frank stood and handed the paper back to Jack. With only his pointer finger extended—he saluted one of his oldest friends and dismissed himself.
The door shut behind him and Jack looked back down at the paper as he slipped it into the team roster for SG-4—he had some calls to make. Chapter Three
The plane landed at Fort Carson precisely at 1800 hours. Right on time—the one thing in Sergeant Tiller's day that had gone as planned. With any luck he'd be fishing by sun down.
The plane came to a ragged stop beside the flight line and Martin was ready to get off the plane—she hated flying. The pilot put the plane in gear and walked to open the door. Tiller, being the gentleman that his mother had molded him into from birth—picked up the box and carried it out to the waiting hum-vee as Martin trailed behind him. After tossing the box in the back he grabbed his sea bag from the coach and started for the hangar.
Martin stood by the Humvee and waived at Tiller even though he couldn't see her. For the second time that day, she grabbed the roll bar of a military truck and pulled herself into the passenger seat. The airman in the drivers seat turned the ignition as a second man handed him an envelope. He opened it and looked out the windshield for Sergeant Tiller who was quickly making his way to the hangar door. "Sergeant Tiller!" the airman called out.
Tiller didn't respond and the airman wasted no time in slamming on the gas and pulling the truck in front of Tiller—cutting him off abruptly. The airman jumped from the truck and ran to Tiller with the paper in hand, "Sergeant, I have orders to take you to the mountain." he said holding out a piece of paper to him.
"What's this?" Tiller asked, dropping his bag and reading the paper. No words could express his anger at that moment. But as a good Marine, Tiller held back any reaction and crumpled the paper in his fist as he picked up his bag and headed back to the humvee.
Martin watched him as he slung his bag into the back and climbed over the side into the back seat.
Turning in her seat, Martin smiled back at Tiller, "Tagging along?"
Tiller was silent as the airman started driving again. Martin turned back in her seat and thought maybe she should just stay quiet indefinitely.Chapter Four
Running behind, as usual, Jack was getting his papers together when he looked as his watch—almost time. He stood and downed the last of his coffee before he picked up the folder and headed for the briefing room.
Four out of the seven people he was expecting were in the room when Jack walked in.
Carter, Daniel, Frank and his new second in command Lieutenant Connelly, all stood when he walked in and he waived them off as he told them to sit back down.
Sitting in his chair, Jack reached for the cup of coffee that had been placed there by Walter a moment before, "They aren't here yet?" he asked looking around as if they were hiding behind someone.
Daniel looked over, "They're in the elevator," he said pushing up his glasses before continuing, "Should be here in about five minutes."
Jack nodded and set his attention to Frank. "Colonel Bedard, Lieutenant Connelly, you know each other--right?" he said, nodding between the two men as they answered the question.
"Yes, Sir, " Frank said setting his cup of coffee on the desk, "Connelly was with me in Cairo…"
Jack's eyebrows raised at the memory, "Ahhh, Cairo—the good ole days…" Leaning back in his chair, Jack smiled over at Frank. "Pretty lights…" he said, obviously hinting at a past mission that was among several unmentionable subjects in their past.
"Sir, did they get Sergeant Tiller in time?" Lt. Connelly asked, inadvertently butting in on an inside joke between the two men.
Jack looked over, annoyed as he scowled at the young man, "It's covered Connie…don't worry." Jack said, not noticing his own slip of the lieutenant's name. It did however catch the attention of Carter and Daniel who suddenly became interested in the rest of the room's activity.
The elevator was crawling down the shaft and Sergeant Tiller could barely restrain the urge to push the button a few more times—it always seemed to make elevators go faster. But he remained the statue he had been since meeting Martin.
Martin stood at Tiller's side, patiently waiting for the doors to open. This is what she had been looking forward to for the last two months—at last the job she really wanted. A job where she could make a difference, even if it was just another hole she was going to work in—this was Star Gate Command.
The doors dinged open and before Sergeant Tiller and Martin could take two steps into the hallway a guard greeted them and guided them to the sign in desk.
"I'm to escort you to the briefing room immediately," the guard said as he swiped his pass card and another set of elevator doors opened.
Martin stopped in the hall, "Uhm," Martin said lingering behind as Sergeant Tiller walked into the elevator—the guard was staring at her now. "I'm not supposed to go to the briefing room. I'm supposed to be in the R and D lab...I was told to report to a Doctor Felger," she said, stepping back from the elevator.
The guard walked out of the elevator and took her arm gently, "There has been a development Ms. Martin." He said ushering her to the elevator.
Taken a back by the guard's actions, she pulled out of his grasp and stepped back, "I don't understand—I'm not supposed to—"
He reached for her arm again. "All I know is what I am told Ms. Martin—and right now you are late for your in-bound briefing with General O'Neill." He guided her into the elevator and this time—she didn't resist him.
Standing beside Sergeant Tiller, who was now the only person she knew, Martin crossed her arms and looked up at him, "That piece of paper you got at the air strip—did it tell you about this?"
"Yep." No smile crossed his face, but Martin knew he was laughing in the inside.
"Well, thanks for the heads up—Sergeant."
The group in the briefing room had fallen into idle conversation when the door opened and a guard led Sergeant Tiller and Martin into the room. Sergeant Tiller came to a dead stop at the end of the table and snapped to attention—Martin stood beside him. Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked around and wondered what in the world was going on. The five people before her stood abruptly as the man at the head of the table stood and nodded to Sergeant Tiller—now she was scared.
"Sergeant Tiller reporting as ordered, SIR." There was that tone she hated—the submissive drone tone that every grunt spoke fluently.
The man at the end of the table nodded and smiled at the Sergeant, "At ease Sergeant," O'Neill said, sitting back down, "Take a seat."
Tiller walked over to the chair by Lieutenant and took a seat while Martin stood at the end of the table and raised her hand as though to ask for permission to speak. "Uhm…can someone tell me what's going on here? Please?"
Pulling a chair out, Tiller silently waived her over. Martin walked over and sat next to Tiller.
Jack ignored the young woman and began the introductions around the room. "So we're all clear—this is Colonel Carter, Commanding Officer of SG-1, Doctor Jackson, also on SG-1. Colonel Bedard and Lieutenant Connie are the CO and XO for SG-4…your new assignment as of today Sergeant—and Martin, you have been transferred from research and development. You're being assigned to SG-4 as their field…archeologist…person."
Frank nodded to the Sergeant and Martin as a greeting—but Martin was still in the dark.
"Uhm...General…" Martin said, again trying to get a handle on the situation. "I, uhm…I don't understand—have I done something wrong?"
Suddenly confused, Jack's eyebrows scrunched together as he gave a sideways glance at Carter. "Wrong?" Looking back at the young woman, he leaned forward and tried not to laugh. "No—you just got here."
"Then why the transfer?" she asked, still confused.
"This is a promotion Ms.—Doctor Martin…it's not a punishment."
She decided to quit while she was a head and sat back in her chair as Tiller glared out the corner of his eye at her.
The briefing continued without any further interruptions. By the end, Martin was slightly more informed—at least she now knew that she was qualified for the job she had just been thrown into.
Jack dismissed everyone and left the new members of SG-4 to talk alone--Carter and Daniel were on his heels as he walked back to his office.
The three men before Martin towered over her as she looked them over. Colonel Bedard, a towering Marine with rugged features looked familiar but she couldn't place his face. The lieutenant was young but was still older than her and had a glint in his eyes that said he had seem more things in his life than most men his age. And of course, Sergeant Tiller, who was still being the silent statue she had traveled with all day. Her impression of him hadn't changed and she had a feeling that this was only the beginning of a miserable working relationship in which she would be the odd man out.
Colonel Bedard handed out files among his new team as he spoke, "We'll be gearing up for our first mission at 0700 tomorrow. Just a walk in the park gentlemen—" he said stopping short as he saw Martin look up at him, "and lady," he said nodding toward her. "Now Ms. Martin—I know you are new at this. Just do your job and we'll take care of everything else. Sergeant Tiller, you're familiar with the base—correct?"
"Yes Sir," he replied, feeling another request coming.
"I'll need you to take Ms. Martin and get her geared up. After that, rest up--we'll meet in the gate room tomorrow morning at 0645, make sure her quarters are locked on as well."
"Yes Sir—I'll get her locked on."
Colonel Bedard and Lt. Connelly made a B-line for the door and left Martin and Tiller in the briefing room. Martin hesitated for a moment and thought she might be better off running down the hall as fast as she could—but Tiller's firm grasp on her shoulder pulled her from her dream and into reality where he was already in action.
"You awake?" He asked, shaking her shoulder until she looked at him.
"Yeah," she replied, clearly dazed by the last few minutes.
"Come on, let's get you ready," he was out in the hall before she could say anything and once again Martin was running after him.
Chapter SixIt was late, and all Jack wanted to do was go home and order Chinese food—but alas, duty was calling…
A disgruntled Colonel Bedard sat across from Jack as he broke the news to him. "I don't want to send you out there just yet Frank-" Jack said, now comfortable in his civilian clothes.
Frank leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "I know she isn't field trained—but you know just as well as I do that instant submersion is better than any class room."
O'Neill sighed, "Alright, but I'm sending you to the outpost first—Carter, Daniel and Teal'c will be out there with SG-12."
Frank shook his head, "General, we're scheduled for P3X-9842—I think backing down will only show a lack of faith in my team. Let us go on this mission—it's a three hour tour, walk around and look at the trees—"
Jack leaned forward and met Frank's glare, "You do know what happened the last time someone said it was just a three hour tour?"
"Sir—"
"It was a good show"
"Sir—with all due respect—"
"Frank--"
"Sir, you know I'm right."
Jack sighed and leaned back in his chair, Had this guy taken lessons from Carter? He tried to think of a reason—any reason to make his point, but there was nothing and Jack knew he had been beaten, "Fine—go to P3X…whatever…just don't call me crying when something goes wrong."
Victory, Frank thought, "Thank you Sir." He was satisfied now. He got his team and his mission. All was set. The rest would come in its own time.
Frank stood and Jack dismissed him with the wave of his hand. With Frank now gone, Jack crossed his fingers as he shut the lights off and walked out into the hall. Closing the door to his office, he turned around and looked down both ends of the hall before choosing a direction. But it wasn't two seconds later when Daniel came running down the hall with a stack of papers in his hands, "Jack! You've got to see this!"
Jack stopped in the middle of the hall and dropped his bag at his feet as Daniel ran up behind him. Crap.
In the last four hours Martin had been hauled from one checkpoint to the next, and now Tiller had her loaded down with enough military equipment to take Panama. Their last stop was her room where she would be staying until her security clearance allowed her to live off base.
The room was small and along with her personal effects, Tiller had hauled in her gear and was trying to show her how to fix her backpack to her vest…
"It's easy, after you adjust the straps on the vest, just snap on the pack to the shoulder attachments—" Pausing for a moment, Tiller looked up as Martin stared down at him.
"Straps…attachment thingies…got it," with a slight salute Martin tried to smile, but Tiller's scowl discouraged any offerings of friendship.
"It's late," he said, standing abruptly and fastening the pack to the vest before letting it fall to the ground, "get some sleep—and don't be late tomorrow." He was out the door before she could say anything back. It annoyed her that he was good at that—usually she got the last word.
Tiller closed the door behind him and Martin slumped down onto the edge of the bed, what am I doing here? Laying back into the mattress she stared up at the ceiling. She didn't want to believe what was happening to her but something inside told her to hold on a bit longer—things might get better. By the time dinner rolled around, Martin was starving and she felt as though she was sneaking around after curfew as she crept down the hall to the commissary.
The halls were quiet as she reached the entrance for the commissary, but the dinning room was buzzing with activity as she picked up a tray and made her way through the line. Making her selections along the line, tuna surprise over noodles, coffee and a piece of chocolate cake, Martin stopped short as she realized there were no empty tables and she was going to have to sit with a group of total strangers no matter where she sat.
She walked down the main isle of tables and looked from side to side, trying to find a spot to hide in when her salvation showed itself in the form of a rather large gentleman sitting by him self over a tray of fruit, vegetables and chicken.
Martin paused at the end of the table, "Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?"
The man looked up from his tray and smiled softly. "You may," the man said as he nodded politely.
"Thank you," she said sitting down at the edge of the table. Her eyes darted around the room and smiled at her surroundings. At first it had seemed intimidating but as she looked around at the people talking and eating she realized that this place wasn't that much different from Area-51 and that eased the tension in her stomach as she ate her dinner in peace and quiet. Momentarily forgetting that, in the morning, she would be not only be traveling to another world—she would be stepping out into the field for the very first time…
