Stargate Command
Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO
Knowledge of the Stargate and involvement in the program had different effects on people. Some would have difficulty accepting the existence of alien life. For others, the knowledge disturbed closely held religious convictions. Many took it all in stride. Numerous psychologists had been brought in to study the effects of the SGC's mission on personnel working there. Typical of any group of psychologists, they couldn't settle on a definitive conclusion. Many just threw they're arms up in apparent frustration.
On the flip side, you had the reaction of Lieutenant Colonel Terrence "Terry" McNulty, US Army. Lt. Col. McNulty was one of the most respected infantry officers in the Army. A graduate of North Carolina State and its ROTC program, McNulty had been born without the particular gene for fear. He was not that physically imposing, standing six feet tall and weighing 190 when soaking wet. The only fat on him was last night's cheeseburger. He had excelled at every level of command and had attended nearly every infantry-related school offered. On the left breast of his BDU's, he wore the Combat Infantryman's Badge, Airborne and Air-Assault wings and the Pathfinder Badge. His swagger was not that of arrogance, but of god-like self-confidence born out of thousands of hours of training and actual combat experience. McNulty had served in Somalia, had helped chase wanted war criminals in Bosnia and had recently worked with the task force that had pulled Saddam Hussein out of his rabbit hole. McNulty was smart enough to know that he didn't know everything, but as he joked, he was working on that deficiency.
Lt. Col. McNulty's new job was going to test his confidence. He was the first commander of the newly formed 7th Ranger Battalion. Simply put, McNulty and his men were to be the SGC's, and by extension Earth's, big stick. This was Jack O'Neill's coveted Rapid Reaction Force. Anytime the Goa'uld or any other alien race felt like picking a fight, McNulty and his men were going to exact some punishment. Every one of McNulty's men was handpicked, from the company commanders to the youngest riflemen. In all, 660 of the Army's best soldiers were training at nearby Peterson Air Force Base.
McNulty's reaction to learning of the Stargate, alien life and all the other fun things that went along with it had been nothing like what Brigadier General Jack O'Neill was used to. Usually, those learning of the program for the first time reacted with some sort of palpable shock. That "meaning of life stuff", as O'Neill phrased it. Some manner of "oh shit". Not McNulty. Lt. Col. McNulty turned to O'Neill and without missing a beat commented on things being pretty serious if they needed the Rangers.
"You have no idea" is all the sarcasm O'Neill could muster.
Now, months later, McNulty could only shake his head at the hand that fortune had tossed his way. He found himself working with of all things, the Air Force. McNulty had always had a somewhat suspicious attitude towards the Army's sister service. With the exception of their special operations troops, with whom he had worked for years, he considered the rest of the United States Air Force to be no better than a highly armed DHL or UPS. Great for getting you there but not for helping to kick in the door. Now, they were commanding the United States' defense against various bad guys impersonating gods.
Great…
McNulty entered the conference room for the weekly staff meeting. He had actually started to develop a good relationship with General O'Neill. The first few weeks had been somewhat tentative as they tried to understand each other. They quickly found, however, that they both shared similar outlooks on certain issues. Such as a rampant dislike for the Russians…
"General, if we are to be partners, I would think the United States would welcome the assistance of the Russian Army." One thing about Colonel Chekov, McNulty thought, he could probably sell ice to Eskimos.
Chekov continued his sales pitch. "A platoon of our airborne soldiers attached to Colonel McNulty's force at Peterson would not be a great intrusion. I believe it would foster good will between our militaries and enhance our ability to work together."
O'Neill looked like he'd rather be tortured by Baal at this exact moment. "Colonel McNulty's force is trained to the same rigid standards. They operate as a seamless machine. It would take time to integrate them into the battalion. And time is not something we have a lot of at the moment. Ask our Atlantis expedition." O'Neill loved tweaking Chekov, even though he had high respect for the Russian.
"General, you should know that my government finds this unacceptable. President Mikhailov will be discussing this issue with President Hayes."
"I wouldn't expect less."
Meanwhile, in a galaxy not so far away…
Langara
"We teach our young soldiers the basic concepts of cover and concealment. Cover will stop bullets. Concealment will allow you to be unseen by you enemy. Movement and coordination as a team are essential." Sergeant Patrick Joyce, US Army had been at this for a while. This was his second group of soldiers from the Langaran Army that day. Joyce was beginning to find the teaching monotonous, but not the students. He loved working with the Langarans. They had become so desperate to catch up in the interstellar neighborhood that they actually had stopped arguing with one another and got to work. The officers of the new Langaran Army were absolutely dedicated to preventing a replay of Anubis's attack. This dedication bordered on the fanatical. Joyce couldn't blame them. He saw the look in their eyes. And if Anubis showed up over Boston, wouldn't I be the same
At the next break in training Joyce was approached by Major Markam, who had pretty much become his defacto shadow since arriving. Joyce wasn't sure if this was intentional or if he was just trying to be friendly. Joyce had played the Who's the Spook? game before. He really didn't feel like playing it now. But he did like Markam. He also provided an easily accessible insight into the Langaran's thinking.
"Sergeant Joyce, will you be joining us tonight?" Markam had talked to Joyce about doing the Langaran version of a pub crawl in the capital. Joyce never turned down a free drink.
"Roger that sir. I believe Commander Rexford will be coming as well."
"Great."
Just what I need, more hospitality. Is it too late for Afghanistan?
SGC
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO
The Stargate roared to life just as it had done thousands of times in the past. The Air Force personnel and civilian contractors performed as they always did. Each activation brought with it the sense of impending news. Ninety nine out of a hundred times it was for rather mundane reasons. A trade mission or a recon team was returning as scheduled. It was that other one that usually set in motion the great events that defined the SGC's history and the fortunes of its men and women. They sometimes came at the least expected time or they could have great buildup. Little did anyone know that 1 out of 100 moments was making its random appearance.
"Unscheduled off-world activation!" The announcement brought a sense of nervous anticipation to O'Neill and Lt. Col. Samantha Carter. They had heard it plenty of times, but it never got old.
They raced to the control room. "What have we got?" O'Neill's question was automatic.
"Sir, we're receiving the IDC now… It's the Tok'ra."
About time they called… "Open the iris!"
The iris opened with its great metal sound, a sound that sent chills through SGC personnel. Through the wormhole appeared Jacob Carter, the former Air Force general turned alien intelligence agent. Everyone who knew Carter knew he was bringing news or on the universe's longest vacation trip. Most likely the former.
O'Neill and Sam Carter arrived in the embarkation room to greet Jacob. They were glad to see him even as they new that his arrival portended imminent issues.
"Jacob! The Tok'ra lives! Just when we thought you guys might have packed up and left the neighborhood. I hope you're here to visit Sam." O'Neill loved throwing out digs at the Tok'ra.
Jacob hugged Sam and shook O'Neill's hand. The look in his eyes said it all. All was not well out on the interstellar block. Oh God, how bad are things now…
"Jack, Sam, it's not good. War is coming…"
TO BE CONTINUED