"Are you supposed to be in here?"

Ian looked up from the textbook he'd been reading – and the large bowl of pasta salad he'd been working his way through – and saw that General Hammond had entered the commissary and had walked up to the table he was sitting at without him even noticing. While it didn't surprise him that Hammond had been able to walk in without him noticing – he had been reading, after all – it was surprising that the general was still on base. It was after 10PM, and he had pretty much assumed everyone had left for the night. He knew Jack and Sam had, because they'd stopped by the infirmary and told him goodbye – the same way Daniel had. He hadn't expected Hammond to actually do it, of course.

"The door was open," he said. And there wouldn't have been food in the little cellophane wrapped containers if they weren't expecting someone to eat it, right? Besides, it was hardly the first time Ian had made a late night raid on the commissary.

"Does Doctor Fraiser know you're not in your bed?"

"She's not here."

"So… no?"

Ian shook his head.

"The doctor on the night staff does, though."

Hammond knew that, actually, because the first place he'd gone when he'd gone looking for Ian was the infirmary, and the doctor in charge of the night crew had known exactly where to find Ian when he'd asked for him. Hammond had also asked if it was wise to allow Ian out of his bed, but the doctor had assured him that the cadet was going to be released the next morning any ways, and he'd shown no sign of the exhaustion that had plagued him for the last few days. He was fine. And he'd been hungry and restless, and had given his word that he would return if he felt dizzy or sick, and would be back in his bed by 2300.

"Can I join you?"

Ian nodded, and pushed aside the empty plastic dishes that were strewn around the table he was sitting at. From the looks of things, Hammond could see the boy had pretty much decimated the selections of food in the cooler, because there were plates that had each held a serving of some kind of cake, plates that had held sandwiches, two bowls that had probably held jell-o, one with pudding, one of soup, a plastic wrapper that proudly displayed it had held cookies, but now simply held crumbs. Obviously Ian was making up for lost time by trying to cause a famine somewhere else.

The general sat down, and reached for the bag of potato chips that hadn't been touched yet – probably overlooked, he decided -and opened it.

"What are you reading?"

"A Physics test I'll be taking next week for finals."

"Interesting stuff?"

"Yeah, actually…"

Ian looked a little wary, now, as if he wasn't exactly sure what the general wanted. Hammond knew it wasn't his rank that was making the boy nervous – Ian never worried about rank, after all.

"You're something of a problem for me, Ian," Hammond said, deciding that he might as well not beat around the bush.

Ian nodded, but didn't say anything – although he did put down his fork. A sure sign that he was paying attention. Hammond munched another chip as he put his thoughts together. Ian was a young man – and easily put on the defensive, as everyone liked to remind him. Of course, Hammond remembered a time when he had been like that as well, so it was hardly shocking.

"I'm tempted to keep you here on earth, Ian," he said, finally. "With the knowledge of the Ancients stuck in your head we're going to be running the risk of losing valuable information – information that we might need for whatever it is that's ahead of us – every time you were to go offworld."

He saw the hurt in Ian's eyes long before he'd even finished speaking, and Hammond gave a purely mental sigh.

"However, Colonel O'Neill and the rest of SG-1 insist that you are just as valuable to them offworld – especially in light of the knowledge you now carry. Say they were to run into the one thing we really needed – and they didn't know what it was, but could have figured it out with your help… Which of course, leads me to the problem."

"Sir?"

He wasn't sure if that meant he was going to be stuck on earth, or allowed to leave, and the confusion was plain in his expression.

"It's a catch-22, Ian. If I keep you here where you'll be safe, it's possible we could miss something offworld, and if I allow you offworld, and something happens to you, then we still lose the benefit we've gained by having the knowledge of the Ancients in your head."

"Yeah…"

"Of course, I could order you to stay here and help Major O'Neill in the lab with her-"

"If I'd wanted to be a scientist, I would have gone to MIT."

Hammond frowned.

"Don't interrupt me, Cadet."

"Sorry."

He didn't sound particularly sorry, but Hammond nodded anyways.

"This is the Air Force. You'll do as you're told."

Ian scowled, but he didn't say anything, and the general knew he was losing the train of the conversation and getting into the territory he'd wanted to avoid. The cadet was now on the defensive, and although this was the Air Force and he was going to do what he was told, Hammond knew there were different degrees of obedience – like obeying an order to the letter, or obeying one to the best of your ability. He wanted Ian's best of ability – and he wasn't going to get that if the boy was angry or nursing a grudge.

After a moment, when he was certain Ian wasn't going to say something they'd both regret, Hammond continued.

"I'm inclined to agree with Colonel O'Neill. While I would feel a lot better knowing that you're safe here on the base, I'm also of the mindset that there is more reason to allow you to continue with SG-1. For now, anyways. We need to find ways of protecting the earth from whatever's coming – whether it's the Goa'uld, or something or someone else – and we're not going to find them sitting on our asses safe here on the base."

"So I get to continue with SG-1?"

Hammond nodded.

"As long as you give me your word that you're not going to do anything stupid and get yourself killed."

While he couldn't hold him to that promise if something happened, of course, it would at least make Ian stop and think before doing anything reckless. Hopefully.

"Yes, Sir."

"And you'll do whatever Colonel O'Neill tells you to while you're offworld."

Since he did that anyways, it was hardly a terrible promise to have to make. Ian nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Don't make me regret this decision, Ian."

"I won't, General Hammond."

"Good." The general stood up, with the bag of chips still in his hand. "I'll see you in the morning in the briefing room with the rest of SG-1 – 0900 hours."

"Yes, sir."

"Unless Doctor Fraiser says otherwise, of course."

There was always the chance his stomach would explode from all the food he'd eaten, after all.

"Yes, sir."