Prelude: During the Great Depression the nations' woes were momentarily suspended with advent of the flying machine or airplane. During this time air racing became a national sport that included many great world record setting aviators such as Jimmy Doolittle, Amelia Earhart, Charles Lindbergh, Chuck Yeager, and many more. Theories abound to this day about the connection between the military intelligence gathering apparatus and the record break aviators. This story explores some of those possibilities but in no way claims those theories are true.
Chapter 1
The last six months were a living hell for Jack's young clone, Jon. He was an old man stuck in a young man's body. At first it was novel and unique. He kind of enjoyed himself for the first few weeks for he found he could eat whatever he liked and not feel sick. An entire pizza with everything was no match for Jon O'Neill. But soon the novelty wore off and he wished he was an adult once more or for the very least treated as such. His break came when General George Hammond invited him to take part in a falconry program off world for the cadets. The SGC wished to set up their own falconry program for off world sites and Jon was the perfect candidate for he was familiar with the Gate.
Jon avoided SG-1 and Jack upon coming back to the SGC. He thought perhaps it would be better for he still harbored feelings for Major Samantha Carter. And to make matters worse, not only did he harbor Jack's feelings the major woman, she was twice his age physically. It was a head-trip for the Jon for he wasn't sure just how old he was. Physically he was fifteen but mentally his was a middle aged man.
The sun shined down on the flacon cages on P3X-5656. The planet was teaming with life and looked much like the North American continent with pine trees as far as the eye could see. He latched the cage after tending to the last bird. He removed the thick leather glove and dusted the dirt and feathers from his green BDU jacket. He then made his way to the Gate and dialed home. After sending the signal he stepped through the event horizon.
The first step back through the Gate was a quite a drop. He fell hard onto a cement floor. Stunned he looked about and found pieces of wood scattered about. He looked up and spotted the Gate looming overhead in a blown out crate. Oh' that's not good! He then glanced about the area as half a dozen young guards rushed in and surrounded him. He slowly raised his hands in the air.
"Don't shoot! I'm unarmed," he told them.
One of the young guards looked at him and then up at the large ring looming above. "Don't move!" he ordered.
"Trust me, I wouldn't think of it." he replied.
Short Time Later
Jon was taken into custody and brought to an office on the base. It soon became apparent that something was very wrong as the guards all wore uniforms that were no longer in service. The green uniforms looked to Jon to be from the forties to his estimation. He noticed many of the men rode bicycles about. He gasped upon spotting a black coupe roll past with rounded fenders. He estimated the car to be from the thirties. He was escorted to an office in the main headquarters and seated in a wooden chair just outside the commander's office. One of the guards entered the office and gave the report to the commander behind the closed door. Jon could hear the muffling of the voices. He could see the movement of shadows through the frosted glass. He gulped for he felt like he was back in high school sitting outside the principal's office.
The door opened and the commander emerged. He was a tall man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore a tan uniform and matching web belt and brown leather shoes. He looked down at Jon and smiled, "I'm Colonel Carter. Would you mind speaking to me in my office, son?"
Jon stood up and looked him square in the eye, "I will."
"This way," he led him into the office.
Upon entering the office Jon glanced about. He found the furniture was all wood. A flag stood behind the desk on a pole. He spotted a black and white picture of young teenage girl on the desk. Beside her was a picture of a bald baby. On the other side of the desk was another black and white photo of a young woman with light hair.
"Nice family," noticed Jon.
The colonel took a seat behind his desk, "That's my wife and new baby, Jacob." He pointed to the photo of the older woman and the baby.
Jon gulped, "Who's the teenager?"
"My niece," he replied. "Her parents died when she was five. I raised her! Her name is Danielle."
"Danielle Carter?" he winced.
He nodded, "Everyone calls her Dee. So, what's your name, son?"
"Jon," he hesitated for he wasn't sure if he should say his last name. He sat debating to himself what he should do. He was never issued dog tags because he wasn't in the military and he left his wallet in his locker and thus he had no identification on him.
"You have a last name, Jon?" the colonel asked.
"O'Neal," he replied. "With one L," he held up a finger. He figured the change of spelling should be enough to not mess up any timeline. "Um, can you tell me where I am?"
"This is Patterson Air Field in Ohio," he told him. "Where are you from, Jon? How did you get here? Did you come through the ring?"
"I obviously came through the ring," he sighed.
"Can you tell me what that ring is?" he asked.
"It's a portal that connects one planet to another," he explained. "It makes a wormhole."
The colonel wondered, "You're from another planet?"
He shook his head, "No, no…I'm from Minnesota. I was off world feeding flacons when the Gate…I mean the ring…Malfunctioned and sent me here. I'm from the future and I don't think I can get back."
"You're from the future?" he asked unsure.
He nodded unenthused, "Can you tell me the date?"
"It's May first, 1935." he told him.
A tap came at the door and it opened slightly. Another man stuck his head inside and spoke to his friend, "Sam! When you're done talking to the kid, I need to speak to you."
Jon looked over his shoulder and spotted another colonel but with dark brown hair. His eyes settled on the name tag as he read it aloud, "Jackson! Your name is Jackson?"
Colonel Carter stated, "I'll catch up after I'm done here, Fred." He watched as his friend closed the door.
Jon looked back at the Colonel, "You're name is Sam Carter and his name is Jackson?"
The Colonel asked, "Is there an issue with that?"
He quietly shook his head in disbelief, "No."
"You are in some sort of military?" he wondered for the uniform Jon wore looked like a military issue of some sort.
"I'm a...Cadet." he told him trying to come up with a cover.
"Do you have any relatives we can call?" he asked him. "I'm not too sure what to do with you."
"No one," he assured him. "I'm all alone even in my time."
Sam puffed out his cheeks, "Okay, I'll let you stay with my family until we can figure out what to do with you. How old are you? Fourteen?"
His eyes narrowed, "Physically I'm fifteen and a half."
"You're too young to join the service," he stated. "I don't think a foster home outside of the military is a good idea."
"Trust me, I can take care of myself." he insisted.
"I think it will be better if you stay where I can keep an eye on you, Jon." he rebutted.
Jon sighed for he knew he had no choice, "Fine."
Later that Day
Jon was given a change of clothes; essentially he was given another uniform to wear. He was given GI issued green fatigues and brown leather boots. The clothes hung from his skinny frame as he followed Colonel Carter and wondered what would become of him. He liked the colonel; he was a kind and caring man. Jon also figured out that Colonel Samuel Carter was Retired General Jacob Carter's father and Major Samantha Carter's grandfather and they were in the midst of the Great Depression.
But one thing about the thirties that not even Jon thought of was the era was also the golden age of air racing. Planes were a new technology and the barriers were constantly being broken. Jon has traveled through time to an era that was on the cutting edge of technology that he would later take for granted. He couldn't believe his eyes when he found a silver P-35 plane sitting in a hangar. He spotted a figure working on the radial engine in the nose of the plane. As he got closer he could smell the distinct smell of tobacco lingering in the air.
"Fred!" Sam called out.
Fred hollered out from atop the ladder, "Here!"
Jon followed Sam to the nose of the plane. He looked it over as he walked by. It was painted silver with a red stripe running lengthwise down the side. It was nine feet high with a wing span of thirty-six feet and about twenty-five feet long. He noticed the name Fledgling hand painted on the side in bold red letters. On the rear fuselage of the plane was the number 45 painted in black. The guns had been removed and it soon hit him that he was looking at a racing plane.
Fred climbed down from the ladder and wiped his hands off on a rag, "Almost got her ready."
"Kids will be excited," Sam replied nodding.
Fred dug into his shirt pocket and found his pack of cigarettes. He offered the pack to his friend who willing took one. He then offered it to Jon who stood wide eyed for he could not believe he was just offered a cigarette. "Cigarette?" he asked him.
Jon narrowed his eyes, "Aren't I a bit young to be smoking?"
"If you say so," he shrugged. "You want one or not?"
Jon had never smoked in his life. Jack had never smoked in his life for he found the habit rather smelly. He looked at the men who didn't seem phased by offering a cigarette to a fifteen year old boy so he took one. He put the end in his mouth and waited for Fred to strike the match. He inhaled and coughed.
Sam smirked, "Don't suck deep at first, son."
"Right," he chocked.
He patted his back, "You'll get the hang of it."
He looked at the cigarette in his hand and asked, "Do I really want too?"
Fred asked, "So what ya doing with kid who came through the ring?"
"I'll be taking him in," Sam informed. He then smirked, "Unless you want him!"
"I already got a teenager to take care of and I don't have a wife. You do!" he rebutted. "You can take him in."
"I can take care of myself," Jon insisted.
Fred replied, "I certainly hope so. No one needs a slacker right now."
"I'm not a slacker," he huffed.
Sam asked his friend, "You think we should enroll this kid in local school?"
Fred's expression of disbelief matched Jon's.
"Hell no!" Fred huffed. "He came through that ring and says he's from the future. Now way in hell are we putting him in school."
Jon let out a sigh of relief, "Thank you!" School would have been pure torture for him.
Fred stated, "He's nearly sixteen, right!"
"Physically," Jon miffed.
Fred asked, "What do you mean by that?"
Jon replied, "Nothing." He figured trying to explain his origins would be too farfetched sounding to the men.
Fred suggested to Sam, "Let's make him sixteen. We don't have to enroll him if he's sixteen and we can put him in the military. Just fake a consent form."
Jon rebutted, "You have to be seventeen with parental consent."
Fred laughed, "We have a few twelve year olds who snuck in."
Sam added with a nod, "Mainly Navy!"
Jon rolled his eyes, "You have got to be kidding me! I don't want to be some grunt in the military. I'm a pilot and I can fly!"
Sam and Fred traded glances.
"You can fly?" asked Sam. "Can you fly that bird?"
"I can fly a P-35," he insisted.
Fred suggested, "Let's take him up for a test flight in one of the trainers. Let's see how he does. We could use him after all."
"Alright," Sam agreed. "You fly that like a pro and we will have great little job for you."
"Doing what?" he asked.
"Officially you will be air racing," Sam told him.
"And what will I be doing unofficially?" asked Jon concerned.
"Army Intel," he smirked.
Jon took a drag off the cigarette, "Could be worse."
Note: Though I use some original characters from other stories this story is not related to those other stories. It doesn't tie into any other story that I have written and stands alone.