Author's Note: This is an alternate reality version of Stargate's first season. I started making notes for the story back in September 2018 and I've been plotting the different chapters and plot lines in my head ever since. It will be a work-in-progress, but I do have a clear vision as to how this will unfold, so… we'll see what happens.
Prologue
July 27, 1997
Stargate Alliance (SGA)
Cheyenne Mountain
"You know, for a top-secret operation that isn't actually active, the skeleton staff we have on site sure go through a hell of a lot of supplies," grouses Brigadier General Jack O'Neill.
The lieutenant on the other end of the phone apologizes – again – for the inconvenience and Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a slow breath as he listens to the same argument he's been listening to for the past ten minutes. When he hears the words 'requisition forms' and 'incorrect signatures' he rolls his eyes and leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk.
He decides he's heard enough and begrudgingly agrees to pay the administration staff on Level 4 a visit to try to resolve the issue before the SGA misses out on their weekly shipment of Russet potatoes. He sets the phone down and runs a hand over his face.
"This is so not what I signed up for," he mutters. He then casts a sidelong glance at the dozen or so file folders that are stacked high in his outbox. With a sigh, he pushes away from his desk and grabs the folders as he makes his way out of his office.
Two birds, one stone, he tells himself as he heads for the elevator because he'll be damned if he's going to make this trip to the Admin department again any time soon. He digs out a pen from his pocket and flips open the first folder while he waits for the elevator to arrive; it's full of request forms for toilet paper, a new Table Tennis table, Jell-O –
Jell-O?
He throws up his hands in frustration.
"Who the hell eats Jell-O in this place?"
The corridor is empty, so he doesn't receive an answer to his question, but it doesn't stop him from casting a glance around anyway before he returns his attention to the page.
Jack has been commander of the SGA for over a year now and he is yet to hear of anyone willingly choosing to eat the glasses of Jell-O in the mess. Or maybe they do, he concedes with a frown; it's not like he makes a habit of eating meals with the people under his command.
The elevator arrives and he steps inside, presses a button and waits for the doors to close. There's a lurch as the elevator starts to move and the General turns his attention back to the form. He shakes his head. Whatever the situation is with the food, he reminds himself that he doesn't particularly care. On any given day around the SGA, Jack is happy to leave the more menial paperwork to Walter. He trusts the man to the job well – and he does – as all Jack usually has to do is read the attached Post-it telling him what the form is about so he can simply sign the page in the appropriate places. But today, unfortunately for Jack, is Walter's day off which is why the General has found himself unwittingly at the center of a food scandal and now subsequently on his way to the upper levels of Cheyenne Mountain to see a Lieutenant Graham Simmons.
Jack sighs again.
He signs another form before the elevator comes to a stop and he looks up to see he's only made it to Level 14. He straightens as the doors open to reveal his second-in-command, Colonel George S. Hammond, standing on the other side.
He dips his head in greeting. "George."
"Jack," he smiles, as he steps into the elevator.
"What level?"
"I'm actually on my way down to the gate room."
"Ah," Jack says lightly. "They playing cards again?"
George nods but Jack simply smirks as he reaches over and presses the button for Level 28 and goes back to reading his paperwork. He isn't annoyed, nor the tiniest bit surprised, by George's confirmation. Okay, so technically the airmen on duty should be on duty, but since he's taken over at Stargate Alliance, Jack's opinion has been that as nothing happens in the mountain these days – and as long as no problems arise between any of his officers – he's happy for those under his command to take their breaks however, and whenever, they wish. It isn't exactly conventional nor reflective of USAF regulations, but Jack will be the first to admit that he's never been a fan of following protocol.
As he signs off on another form, he can feel George studying him and he turns his head.
"The display on the elevator said it was going up."
Jack nods, but when the colonel continues to watch him in confusion, he sighs. "I've something to do on Level 4," he offers with a shrug, "but it can wait."
He sees George's lips twist before he turns away. "Sign the wrong form again, did we, Jack?"
"This is why I hate being The Man," he retorts defensively, folding his arms across his chest. "Too much damn paperwork."
A chuckle escapes the other man at his admission before they both fall into a comfortable silence and it isn't until the elevator passes Level 19 when George breaks the quiet.
"Have you any plans for this evening?"
"Oh, yeah," Jack smiled, "big plans – huge. Most of which involve The Simpsons… and beer."
George laughs again and fully turns to face him. "Why don't you join us for dinner?"
Jack's own amusement slowly fades at his friend's question but he resists the urge to sigh. He appreciates the oft-repeated invitation to join George, his daughter, and two young granddaughters for dinner on a Sunday evening, he really does; but being around kids is still a situation that Jack isn't yet ready to face. He knows George knows this too, so his second-in-command is – thankfully – never offended when his dinner invitation is always politely, but firmly, rejected.
He is just about to say 'thanks, but no thanks' once again when the base alarms suddenly ring out.
"What the hell?" Jack mutters.
"The alarms are only to be activated in case of an attack –"
"I know," Jack interrupts impatiently, although his frustration isn't directed at George. "Come on, come on," he adds as he watches the numbers slowly change as the elevator continues down to Level 28. It takes a few more seconds, which feel more like hours, before the elevator stops and the doors slide open. The distinct sound of gunfire and explosions can be heard and Jack throws the folders down as he runs towards the gate room.
"Call for back-up," he yells to Hammond over his shoulder as he runs around the corner, "and stay here."
George grabs the nearest wall phone and by the time he relays Jack's message the weapons' fire stops. Despite the order, he moves down the corridor and pauses just behind Jack on the threshold of the gate room as he looks around.
He catches the General's subtle, if slightly angry, signal for him to hold his position, right before he turns his attention away.
There are officers lying dead at the base of the ramp and even for a seasoned officer like Jack O'Neill, he has to force away the nausea. He pulls his gaze away from the dead and towards the gate and notices that it's still active, which concerns him as he didn't know the Stargate could stay open if nothing was coming through. There's also the small fact that there is no way on this Earth that one of his own people dialled the coordinates. But what worries him more are the intruders – one dressed in gold armor and the others in silver – that make their way towards the wormhole with one of the SGA's female sergeants. He hears George gasp at the sight and a second later, Jack urges him back into the corridor once more before he reaches for the nearest body, grabs a pistol from the holster and aims it at the hostiles.
"I think that's far enough," Jack warns.
He vaguely registers the sound of boots pounding against the concrete floor as his back-up finally appears and files into the room behind him. With the support of his officers, he slowly takes a step closer. He then hears the collective sound of guns cocking, but Jack's gaze never wavers from the threat. Then, without warning, the enemy that's dressed in gold turns and stares directly at him. His eyes glow brightly before an ornately-decorated protective helmet covers the alien's face.
Jack gives the order to shoot just before the strangers step through the gate.
When the wormhole disengages and plunges the room back to its normal gray surroundings, it's George who breaks the silence.
"Dear God," he whispers in horror.
Swallowing hard, Jack turns and grabs the phone that's hanging loose against the back wall.
"This is General O'Neill," he barks. "Get Catherine on the phone – tell her she's needed on base ASAP."
I will get around to updating Tangled Threads and my 'Five Times' fic soon, honest; I just needed to work on something different to try and spark some creativity and motivation.