Title/Author: Memory / by Gimli2003
Season/Spoilers: 4 or 5 / none at all
Rating/Content: PG-13 / Language (as usual) and some innuendo
Category: Humor
Summary: Four word summary: short-term memory loss
Author's Note: Hello once again, campers! Your favorite dwarven comedian here to lighten
your days with SG-1 humour. I just want to thank everyone for the feedback,
you all are great. I WILL be updating the fruit loops story and adding a
sequel to 'Finding Carter,' as per your requests, just gimme some time.
Anyhoo, enough talk, enjoy!
Memory
By Gimli2003
"Incoming wormhole, sir."
General George Hammond, commanding officer of the men and women of the Stargate program,
heard Sgt. Siler's call from the control station just a moment after the usual alarms, bells, and
whistles went off. He made his way over to where the officer controlling the Stargate sat, checking
through the clear, bulletproof AND staffweapon-proof glass, that the trinium iris over the
Stargate was, in fact, closed. It was. Good.
"Report, sergeant. Do we have a GDO code?"
"Not yet, sir." Silence sat between the two air force officers, for a moment. Then…
"Incoming signal, sir. It's SG-1."
Hammond let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Open the iris." He
watched as the sleek metal barrier retracted into the ring in front of their Stargate.
SG-1 was more than 14 hours overdue back from their exploratory mission of PV8-366. They
hadn't sent word back that they would be late, either, as was somewhat typical of the colonel. He
had Dr. Frasier on standby, awaiting the moment their flagship team would come back, most likely
with injuries of some sort.
As four familiar figures materialized through the wormhole, however, he released yet
another breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. SG-1 was intact, without any signs of injury;
even Dr. Jackson seemed to be wholly untouched. 'Well, looks like the president owes me $50, that's
five missions in a row without the good doctor being harmed,' he thought to himself as he entered
the embarkation room. "SG-1, welcome back."
As usual, the colonel was the first to respond. "Yessiree, good to be back, from...where we
just were."
'Odd,' thought Hammond, but dismissed the remark as typical O'Neill. "What did your mission
turn up, Colonel?"
"Uhhhhhhh…" O'Neill seemed to be in deep thought, an activity he usually didn't partake in.
"Well, sir…," he trailed off yet again. Then a strange look spread over his face, and he visibly
relaxed.
He also didn't answer Hammond's question. "Colonel?!"
"Yessir!"
"Spit it out son!"
Now O'Neill seemed confused. "Spit what out, sir?"
"What have you been doing on PV8-366 all this time?!" Now he was shouting at the top of his
lungs.
"Oh, of course, why didn't you say so, sir?" Now that earned him a reprimand in Hammonds book.
Or at least it would have had this been anyone else and he wasn't concerned about his 2ICs health.
"Well, Daniel played with his rocks-"
"Artifacts, Jack, artifacts! I was translating an ancient language, not that you EVER listen
to me about that stuff, always playing with your yo-yo-"
"DANIEL!"
'Oh, that was it.' "Colonel, hand over the yo-yo."
Cue the innocent school-boy look. "What yo-yo?"
"Colonel." Hammond let his voice drop to a level that would make Artic winters seem balmy by
comparison.
"Oh but sir, it was a birthday present. From Cassie!"
"Then you'll have to explain to her why you won't be getting it back till Christmas. Now hand
the toy over," he bellowed while holding out one hand. 'God, that sounded lame. Dammit, high-school
teachers deal with this stuff, not generals in the Unite States Air Force!'
O'Neill gave a heavy sigh. "Yes sir." He reached into his pocket, not his BOXERS pocket, mind
you, but his actual pants pocket, and pulled out a round, yellow and green glow-in–the-dark ellipsoid
attached to a string, which he achingly departed with.
"Sir," Major Samantha Carter, 2IC of SG-1 piped up, "you keep that in your UNDERWEAR?!"
"In my boxers, yeah. Why?"
"Nothing, sir." Was she blushing? 'Honestly, this is getting out of hand. If these two would
only talk to me about their relationship together, we could simplify this situation...and I could collect
a good $100 from Jacob.' He noticed again that that weird expression had spread over the colonel's face.
"So, what else happened on your trip, Colonel," he asked after pocketing the toy.
Once again, Jack seemed to snap out of some sort of dream-like state at the sound of his voice.
"Yes sir, hey! Good to be back, hugs all around. Who's first?"
"Colonel, what the hell is the matter with you?" Hammond looked over the other three SG-1
members with a critical eye. 'What is going on here? Is Teal'c teaching him to Kel-noreem while awake
or something? Even O'Neill doesn't normally act this way.' "What happened to you all out there?"
"None of us can recall, General Hammond." 'Trust the jaffa to keep the conversation on track,
as usual.'
"Oh, great. That's just goddamn fantastic. What did you four DO on PV8-366, anyway? Hit each
over the head with rocks for half-the-day?"
O'Neill turned to his teammates. "We didn't, did we?"
"That's it. Get doctor Frasier in here, NOW!" He bellowed at the nearest SF as loud and as
authoritatively as his anger would let him.
The petite doctor was there in a matter of moments, followed by a couple of her nurses. She
immediately set to work examining SG-1 for any sort of explanation as to their current behavior. After
a few minutes of initial checks and tests, she said exactly what he knew she would say.
"I need to get them to the infirmary, general. Whatever is causing this, it isn't something
like a normal bump on the head. I'm going to need some time to run some tests."
"Very well, doctor. Get started immediately." She nodded and began to herd arguably the four
most important members of the SGC towards the infirmary. They hadn't gone ten steps down the hall,
though, before he heard-
"Hey, WHERE'S MY YO-YO?!?"
TBC
// Feed the hungry review monster!
Season/Spoilers: 4 or 5 / none at all
Rating/Content: PG-13 / Language (as usual) and some innuendo
Category: Humor
Summary: Four word summary: short-term memory loss
Author's Note: Hello once again, campers! Your favorite dwarven comedian here to lighten
your days with SG-1 humour. I just want to thank everyone for the feedback,
you all are great. I WILL be updating the fruit loops story and adding a
sequel to 'Finding Carter,' as per your requests, just gimme some time.
Anyhoo, enough talk, enjoy!
Memory
By Gimli2003
"Incoming wormhole, sir."
General George Hammond, commanding officer of the men and women of the Stargate program,
heard Sgt. Siler's call from the control station just a moment after the usual alarms, bells, and
whistles went off. He made his way over to where the officer controlling the Stargate sat, checking
through the clear, bulletproof AND staffweapon-proof glass, that the trinium iris over the
Stargate was, in fact, closed. It was. Good.
"Report, sergeant. Do we have a GDO code?"
"Not yet, sir." Silence sat between the two air force officers, for a moment. Then…
"Incoming signal, sir. It's SG-1."
Hammond let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Open the iris." He
watched as the sleek metal barrier retracted into the ring in front of their Stargate.
SG-1 was more than 14 hours overdue back from their exploratory mission of PV8-366. They
hadn't sent word back that they would be late, either, as was somewhat typical of the colonel. He
had Dr. Frasier on standby, awaiting the moment their flagship team would come back, most likely
with injuries of some sort.
As four familiar figures materialized through the wormhole, however, he released yet
another breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. SG-1 was intact, without any signs of injury;
even Dr. Jackson seemed to be wholly untouched. 'Well, looks like the president owes me $50, that's
five missions in a row without the good doctor being harmed,' he thought to himself as he entered
the embarkation room. "SG-1, welcome back."
As usual, the colonel was the first to respond. "Yessiree, good to be back, from...where we
just were."
'Odd,' thought Hammond, but dismissed the remark as typical O'Neill. "What did your mission
turn up, Colonel?"
"Uhhhhhhh…" O'Neill seemed to be in deep thought, an activity he usually didn't partake in.
"Well, sir…," he trailed off yet again. Then a strange look spread over his face, and he visibly
relaxed.
He also didn't answer Hammond's question. "Colonel?!"
"Yessir!"
"Spit it out son!"
Now O'Neill seemed confused. "Spit what out, sir?"
"What have you been doing on PV8-366 all this time?!" Now he was shouting at the top of his
lungs.
"Oh, of course, why didn't you say so, sir?" Now that earned him a reprimand in Hammonds book.
Or at least it would have had this been anyone else and he wasn't concerned about his 2ICs health.
"Well, Daniel played with his rocks-"
"Artifacts, Jack, artifacts! I was translating an ancient language, not that you EVER listen
to me about that stuff, always playing with your yo-yo-"
"DANIEL!"
'Oh, that was it.' "Colonel, hand over the yo-yo."
Cue the innocent school-boy look. "What yo-yo?"
"Colonel." Hammond let his voice drop to a level that would make Artic winters seem balmy by
comparison.
"Oh but sir, it was a birthday present. From Cassie!"
"Then you'll have to explain to her why you won't be getting it back till Christmas. Now hand
the toy over," he bellowed while holding out one hand. 'God, that sounded lame. Dammit, high-school
teachers deal with this stuff, not generals in the Unite States Air Force!'
O'Neill gave a heavy sigh. "Yes sir." He reached into his pocket, not his BOXERS pocket, mind
you, but his actual pants pocket, and pulled out a round, yellow and green glow-in–the-dark ellipsoid
attached to a string, which he achingly departed with.
"Sir," Major Samantha Carter, 2IC of SG-1 piped up, "you keep that in your UNDERWEAR?!"
"In my boxers, yeah. Why?"
"Nothing, sir." Was she blushing? 'Honestly, this is getting out of hand. If these two would
only talk to me about their relationship together, we could simplify this situation...and I could collect
a good $100 from Jacob.' He noticed again that that weird expression had spread over the colonel's face.
"So, what else happened on your trip, Colonel," he asked after pocketing the toy.
Once again, Jack seemed to snap out of some sort of dream-like state at the sound of his voice.
"Yes sir, hey! Good to be back, hugs all around. Who's first?"
"Colonel, what the hell is the matter with you?" Hammond looked over the other three SG-1
members with a critical eye. 'What is going on here? Is Teal'c teaching him to Kel-noreem while awake
or something? Even O'Neill doesn't normally act this way.' "What happened to you all out there?"
"None of us can recall, General Hammond." 'Trust the jaffa to keep the conversation on track,
as usual.'
"Oh, great. That's just goddamn fantastic. What did you four DO on PV8-366, anyway? Hit each
over the head with rocks for half-the-day?"
O'Neill turned to his teammates. "We didn't, did we?"
"That's it. Get doctor Frasier in here, NOW!" He bellowed at the nearest SF as loud and as
authoritatively as his anger would let him.
The petite doctor was there in a matter of moments, followed by a couple of her nurses. She
immediately set to work examining SG-1 for any sort of explanation as to their current behavior. After
a few minutes of initial checks and tests, she said exactly what he knew she would say.
"I need to get them to the infirmary, general. Whatever is causing this, it isn't something
like a normal bump on the head. I'm going to need some time to run some tests."
"Very well, doctor. Get started immediately." She nodded and began to herd arguably the four
most important members of the SGC towards the infirmary. They hadn't gone ten steps down the hall,
though, before he heard-
"Hey, WHERE'S MY YO-YO?!?"
TBC
// Feed the hungry review monster!