Epilogue
~*~
The gate flared, brightening the room for a moment before dimming back into a muted blue. Jack O'Neill stood at the base of the ramp, double checking his gear, and making sure his P-90 was set to fire. Just in case. Satisfied, he turned and looked at the other members of his team, checking their readiness with a glance.
Daniel was ready. He looked more and more comfortable with the weapons every time they went out, and Jack briefly remembered the very first trip the two of them had ever taken through the gate together. What a newbie he'd been, then. Smiling slightly at the memory, he turned towards Teal'c, but knew that the Jaffa was ready without even needing to check. Teal'c was always ready. Then he turned to his left to check the last member.
Sam was holding her P-90 as competently as Jack was, and he knew she was just as god a shot as he was, if necessary. She caught his eye, knowing the question before he asked it, and answering with a nod. She was ready for this. Had been ready for a while now, but had only been held back by a Commanding Officer that wanted to make sure. He was sure, now.
O'Neill turned and looked up at the bullet-proof glass window that house the main control room of the SGC and saw Hammond standing there. He gave the General a nod, telling him that they were set. Hammond nodded back, and turned on the intercom.
"SG-1, you have a go. Good luck."
The General watched silently as his premier team headed up the ramp, and then stepped through the gate, bravely facing whatever new situation might come. Then he turned and headed for his office.
"Sir?"
A Sergeant was racing to catch him, and Hammond turned, wondering what was the matter.
"Yes, Sergeant?"
"A janitor found this, Sir. Lying on the floor last night as he was cleaning. It looked important, so he returned it."
Hammond looked at the paper the Sergeant handed him. It was a very official looking memo from the President of the United States.
"I didn't know transfers weren't allowed from SG teams, Sir," The Sergeant said, looking at the paper. "I thought that Lieutenant-"
"They're allowed, Sergeant. This document isn't an official form. See this? It's printed on regular typewriter paper. Orders from the President come on White House paper with the security linings. Someone's obviously messing around with a mimeograph machine." Hammond did his best to look pissed off. "Have that document destroyed, Sergeant, if you would. And don't discuss it with anyone."
"Yes, Sir."
He waited until the Sergeant had walked back down the hall, then Hammond turned back towards his office, a grin on his face.
~*~
The gate flared, brightening the room for a moment before dimming back into a muted blue. Jack O'Neill stood at the base of the ramp, double checking his gear, and making sure his P-90 was set to fire. Just in case. Satisfied, he turned and looked at the other members of his team, checking their readiness with a glance.
Daniel was ready. He looked more and more comfortable with the weapons every time they went out, and Jack briefly remembered the very first trip the two of them had ever taken through the gate together. What a newbie he'd been, then. Smiling slightly at the memory, he turned towards Teal'c, but knew that the Jaffa was ready without even needing to check. Teal'c was always ready. Then he turned to his left to check the last member.
Sam was holding her P-90 as competently as Jack was, and he knew she was just as god a shot as he was, if necessary. She caught his eye, knowing the question before he asked it, and answering with a nod. She was ready for this. Had been ready for a while now, but had only been held back by a Commanding Officer that wanted to make sure. He was sure, now.
O'Neill turned and looked up at the bullet-proof glass window that house the main control room of the SGC and saw Hammond standing there. He gave the General a nod, telling him that they were set. Hammond nodded back, and turned on the intercom.
"SG-1, you have a go. Good luck."
The General watched silently as his premier team headed up the ramp, and then stepped through the gate, bravely facing whatever new situation might come. Then he turned and headed for his office.
"Sir?"
A Sergeant was racing to catch him, and Hammond turned, wondering what was the matter.
"Yes, Sergeant?"
"A janitor found this, Sir. Lying on the floor last night as he was cleaning. It looked important, so he returned it."
Hammond looked at the paper the Sergeant handed him. It was a very official looking memo from the President of the United States.
"I didn't know transfers weren't allowed from SG teams, Sir," The Sergeant said, looking at the paper. "I thought that Lieutenant-"
"They're allowed, Sergeant. This document isn't an official form. See this? It's printed on regular typewriter paper. Orders from the President come on White House paper with the security linings. Someone's obviously messing around with a mimeograph machine." Hammond did his best to look pissed off. "Have that document destroyed, Sergeant, if you would. And don't discuss it with anyone."
"Yes, Sir."
He waited until the Sergeant had walked back down the hall, then Hammond turned back towards his office, a grin on his face.