Year 5

Teal'c stared at the screen in amazement. Grell the Robot raised an eyebrow and shot a green alien in the stomach. "I believe this to be a most entertaining program, O'Neill."

Col. Jack O'Neill looked from Col. Danning making out with the green alien princess to Teal'c and back again. "You like this?"

"Oh, that's not even right!" Sam argued with Major Monroe.

"Just because they're aliens…" Daniel sighed.

But, in a different household, not too far away…

"Col. Danning is funny!" A little girl giggled.

"Dr. Lavant is cuter though," the other little girl replied.

"I wanna be Major Monroe, then, maybe I could work with Grandpa."

"Grandpa doesn't work with aliens, silly. You know Grandpa works at Cheyenne Mountain, Kayla."

"He could work with aliens, Tessa. Couldn't you, Grandpa?" The little girls turned to their beloved balding grandfather.

Holy Hannah! thought George, how do I get out of this one? He squirmed in his chair.

"Colonel, we have to set a detonated charge at the base of the wormhole at 4.27 degrees opposite the event horizon polarity. It's our last chance to save the base!" Major Monroe screamed from the embarkation room on the TV.

"No!" shrieked Kayla and Tessa.

"Whew," sighed George, wondering why he even bothered to watch Wormhole X-Treme when it reminded him so much of work. But, ten minutes later, the base was saved from the 'gate virus brought back from the alien world with green people, and his grandchildren were sent off to bed.

"I'd better get on too, Christina, long day at work tomorrow."

"Do be careful Dad. What ever is it you do on that mountain anyway? You always come over so tired. If I didn't know any better I'd say Kayla might be on to something."

"Careful how much TV you ladies watch. I'll see you next week." George hugged his daughter goodbye and walked to the car. Plausible deniability indeed.

By the next morning, George was in full general mode. The president called. The joint chiefs issued some new orders. General Kerrington called, twice, to discuss the plans for the upcoming training session. Then he had a debriefing with SG-9. On top of that he had to review the training scenarios for the next month. So, when Sergeant Harriman knocked on his door with commissary requisitions, cleaning supply lists, and of course, the ever present downtime roster, General Hammond could only sigh in slight irritation and glance at his watch. 1430 hours.

"Thank you, Walter. I'll take care of these over lunch."

"Yes sir. Don't forget you have the post-mission debriefing with SG-6 in half an hour." Hammond nodded and headed for the commissary. SG-1 came at the top of the downtime roster. He sighed. He didn't have time for this. Their downtime would just have to be rescheduled this time. He checked his watch again, time to go!

"Walter, here is the paperwork. Reschedule SG-1 for the next rotation, and as soon as SG-6 returns send them up to the debriefing room."

"May I ask why you're rescheduling SG-1's downtime?"

"I don't have the time to go toe to toe with them this week." Or the energy, he added to himself.

The next morning, George arrived at work waiting for Walter to deliver the morning reports. When Harriman did arrive, he looked almost joyful. "I have good news, General!"

"SG-6 has finally returned?"

"Sorry sir, they're still stranded on P4M-992. The MALP is still showing blizzard conditions. Major Moore said they were holding out ok. I figured out how to get SG-1 to take their downtime."

George Hammond smiled with relief. "Go on," he encouraged.

"Col. Dixon has agreed to go fishing in Minnesota with Col. O'Neill. Dixon is on medical leave after he tore his left rotator cuff two weeks ago. I already Okayed it with Dr. Frasier. There is a motorcycle rally next weekend in Denver and I've made reservations for Major Carter. Teal'c will probably want to visit his son, but in the event he remains planetside I've scheduled him to go with Dr. Jackson to visit the Smithsonian, which is currently running an exhibit on ancient civilizations."

George felt his mouth go slack. He had to wonder how chief sergeant could arrange everything so quickly!

"How did you do it?"

But the little man only smiled.

"Very well. You have a go. Find SG-1 and tell them they're on downtime."

If anything, Walter's smile only grew as he hurried off to fulfill his assignment.

"As a matter of fact, it does say Sergent on my uniform!"

A/N: Happy New Year folks! Year Six is half-way written and I hope to finish it this week before things at school get crazy.