Stargate Command
Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO
Many of Jack O'Neill's superiors, contemporaries and even subordinates did not consider him a philosopher or deep thinker by nature. This was mainly the result of years spent downplaying his own intelligence while gaining a reputation as a gut-instinct type of soldier. Those who spent a fair amount of time with him however, discovered that behind the shoot-from-the-hip attitude and self-deprecation, laid a sweeping intellect and broad curiosity bordering on the scientific. It was in this vein that O'Neill found himself mired in thought this morning. Above all else, his deep thoughts were not good ones.
What consumed his thoughts on a Friday morning were the SGC and its future, especially in terms of the rest of the world. Change was sweeping in rapidly. Some of the change was good, such as the Jaffa and their rebellion. Much of it wasn't, such as the missing Atlantis expedition, Daniel being MIA and the increased scrutiny of SGC operations. O'Neill had been trying to comfort himself by thinking about the inevitability of change, but things were becoming too large to control.
How the hell did Hammond do this job for so long?
The politics was killing him. Everyone "in the know" seemed to want a piece of the action. O'Neill was no fool. He was aware of how politics had been part of the SGC since the beginning of the program. Various dealings with Senator Kinsey and others had given him enough of an education in that arena. Now others were climbing up to the trough. The British, French and Germans all wanted teams operating out of the SGC. They also wanted in on Prometheus and the F-302 program. Even America's allies were beginning to chafe at the advantage the Stargate was providing. As it was, they would need the allies just to continue the program. The SGC was becoming a victim of its own success. It was becoming too big and too expensive for the United States to handle alone.
The Prometheus' sister ships alone would each cost billions of dollars. F-302 fighters were not exactly Wal-Mart specials either. The costs were staggering and so was the manpower required. With the war in Iraq continuing, recruitment for the SGC was becoming problematic. Special Operations troops were in heavy demand.
At least some things were going right, O'Neill thought. The Rapid Reaction Force was coming along nicely. Ambassador Mulhern, the new State Department representative, was taking on much of the diplomatic grunt work that Hammond had traditionally handled. And she was behaving herself. O'Neill flashed a rueful grin at the thought.
A State Department weenie answering to me. Nice!
As if on cue, Ambassador Mulhern entered Jack's office and stood before him with a half-smile on her face.
"Grab a seat, Ambassador. You look like you just won an NCAA basketball office pool."
"Fat chance of that happening Jack. But I do bring some good news."
"Shoot."
"The Langaran delegation finished their tour of Washington DC and are in New York. According to our people, they're stunned. Floored. Our people think they'll offer us an exclusive deal on the naquadah."
"Well, that's good. It's about time we got some good news from those folks. Have your people heard what they'll want in return?"
"Not yet, but our current guess, if it's worth anything, is deals for licensing to produce certain pharmaceuticals, computers and small weapons systems. Easier for them to get the license to produce what they need than buy it directly from us. The Japanese did the same thing when they were building their economy after World War Two. When will you hear from Howe and the teams?"
"They're scheduled to dial in later today."
"I'm really interested in seeing how this goes. It's going much better on our end than I would have thought." Mulhern actually seemed buoyant about the Langarans, which surprised O'Neill.
"I thought you were skeptical of this, Ambassador."
"Let's just say that I'm cautiously optimistic. Pending Howe's report, though."
"Of course."
A Langaran Military Facility
Joyce had heard many a tale regarding Jonas Quinn's stay at the SGC. It had started with him involved in the apparent death of Dr. Jackson and his subsequent defection to the US with an amount of naquadria. Joyce had worked on SG-1 for about a year until he was practically begged back home. During his time with SG-1, he had been captured and tortured by two separate Goa'ulds, Anubis and Nirrti. Not bad for a single year, Joyce thought.
"So, how are things back on Earth?" Quinn still held a warm spot for his almost-adopted home. He missed a lot of the small things, like the Weather Channel.
"Not bad. You know about the war in Iraq?" No need to sugarcoat things.
"Yeah, O'Neill told me last time we talked. Kind of figured that one was coming at some point. Did you go?"
"Yes, I was with the 101st Airborne during the invasion. The actual invasion wasn't too bad. It's the occupation that's been the problem."
'Yeah, they usually are."
Quinn and Joyce were sitting in what passed for an Officer's Club. It was the end of the duty day and everyone was unwinding. Commander Rexford was at the bar making conversation with a couple of Langaran officers. The mission so far had gone exceedingly well. The Langarans and the personnel from Earth were getting along fine Joyce felt spoiled with this mission. He knew they all couldn't be this easy. It had so far been a very 9-5 existence. Nothing too strenuous. Unless you counted what passed for alcohol here, Joyce thought. The stuff could knock you out. Ambassador Howe was in the capitol and would be arriving soon to make contact with the SGC.
Jonas looked over at Joyce. "How do you like it so far?"
"I love it here. You're military has treated us really well. I also liked visiting the capitol. The architecture was nice." Joyce and the rest of SG-19 along with SG-29 had visited the capitol city the previous day for a series of tours and receptions. The hospitality was overwhelming. Joyce could see what was going on. The Langarans were desperate to get into Earth's good graces. Joyce had seen a fair amount of ass-kissing in his time. But he understood why they were doing it.
Tomorrow, they would begin working in the field with the Langaran Army to understand how they operated. Joyce expected them to try and show off a little. They would want to impress the teams.
SGC
Command and Control Center
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO
At the appropriate time, the Stargate roared to life with the prospect of an incoming wormhole. O'Neill and Mulhern were expecting it. They heard MSgt Harriman's voice intone, "Sir, we're receiving a signal. It's Ambassador Howe."
O'Neil looked to the plasma screen and saw the Ambassador's image come up. "Ambassador, It's General O'Neill. Ambassador Mulhern is here with me. How are things going?"
"Fine, General. Actually, better than fine. The Langarans have treated us really well. They are very interested in some form of trade agreement, pending the return of their delegation from Earth. They have forwarded a list of products that they would like to study further. I'll be transmitting it momentarily." Mulhern spoke up. "Geoff, we're told the Langaran delegation is now in New York and is greatly impressed. We think this might work out after all."
"That's good to hear. Also General, be advised the Langarans are looking for gate addresses. They want to start their own SG teams."
Oh boy…
A secret Tok'ra facility
"Someone must warn them." Jacob was insistent on this point.
"It isn't our problem. We cannot risk drawing attention to ourselves at this moment in time." What's one backward race compared to our struggle…
"At least allow me to contact Earth. They have some relations with these people. If we espouse to be part of a greater good in this galaxy, then we should act like it!" The final challenge of the statement was issued not by Jacob but by Selmak.
"Your continued fondness for the Tau'ri will be your downfall. But if you must, contact them. But do not involve us in this! This Langara is not our problem…"