MONDAY, JAN. 30, 2006

1100 HOURS



BZZZZZZT!

The inside of Jack O'Neill's head pounded as he rolled out of bed and cursed the alarm clock. Dammit, why couldn't he go home like the rest of his team? SG-1 had just barely escaped from the snake-heads with their lives yesterday, and when they arrived at base Hammond let them go home and take the whole week off after a mercifully short debriefing. All but one. Jack didn't understand it. He was the one who'd been under Baal's hand device for a good minute and a half, and Hammond wanted him, of all people, to stick around on base for an extra day.

Half an hour later, he stepped into the briefing room, only slightly less irritated than when he woke up, for his weekly meeting with General Hammond. O'Neill hated these meetings - there was rarely anything mentioned except status updates on all the other SG teams - but as base 2IC he had to go to them, because if anything happened to Hammond he would end up in charge. Still, Jack wondered why Hammond had insisted that he show up this particular week. He'd never been asked before to be there less than 24 hours after almost being killed - and he'd come close to death on many occasions. Hell, he'd even clinically died a few times only to be brought back. The general was already there, and motioned for him to sit down.

"Good morning, Jack," Hammond greeted him. "I hope you slept well last night?"

"Could have been worse," O'Neill answered cautiously, already suspecting that something big had happened while he and his team were off-world. "Can I assume something big happened while I was out, sir?"

Hammond was terse. "Cimmeria got wiped out two days ago."

"Cimmeria?" O'Neill tried to hide his shock.

"Orbital bombardment, and then death gliders and Jaffa on the ground to mop up. Half a dozen survivors came through the gate Saturday morning. We sent a UAV through last night, and everything within sixty miles of the gate was just flattened. No sign of life, no sign of the Goa'uld. As far as we know they made a clean getaway."

"But wasn't Thor supposed to be keeping an eye on that planet?"

"You know the score, Jack. The Asgard are fighting for their lives right now. They recalled their whole fleet to fight the Replicators, so nothing's left patrolling our galaxy. You know it, I know it, and now it seems the System Lords know it. I personally told Thor about it, and there's a ship on its way now, but I seriously doubt that they're going to find whoever did this. By the time the Asgard get there, the Goa'uld will be long gone."

"I see."

"We're stretched too thin. We have, what, twenty-two teams?"

"Twenty-four in a couple weeks, sir, when the Brits move in."

"That's nowhere near enough to both keep ourselves protected and cover all our commitments. We've got so many friends now that just keeping contact with all of them is straining our resources. The System Lords haven't been able to get at Earth for a while, but they've been hitting our allies one by one, and it's only a matter of time before they make another attempt on us. I've been talking to Washington, and they think we should expand our operations. Even Kinsey's in agreement on this one now."

"By expand, you mean...?" the colonel started, interested in what the eggheads in Washington had in mind.

"We're going to almost double the size of the operation. The Pentagon approved 18 new teams to bring us to 42. That'll be 16 regular SG teams and two Marine combat squads."

"And we plan to house this many people how?."

"That's what I told them," Hammond replied. "They want to start a permanent off-world base of operations within the next eight months. When you get back next week your next mission will be to find a suitable planet."

"You kept me on base to tell me THAT?!" O'Neill protested, rising from his seat. "You could have waited until..."

"Sit down, Colonel, I'm not done yet!" Hammond snapped. "Thank you," he said in a calmer voice as Jack sat down again.

O'Neill took a deep breath. "All right, what is it?" he asked quietly, obviously annoyed.

"I'm telling you this because I need you to pick the field teams. I'm already handling the base personnel decisions, throwing the field teams on top of it would be too much."

"Sir, that's 76 people."

"I didn't say it would be easy. It'll probably take at least a month, so the sooner you start, the better."

"OK, but why me?"

"Because... ... well, I might as well tell you now. You're taking command of all these people when the base is set up."

The enormity of it took some time to hit O'Neill. If they held to Hammond's timeline, then within eight months SG-1 would be no more. Or at least the SG-1 that he knew. And it was a desk job. Hammond could see the disappointment on his face.

"Is that all, sir?" O'Neill kept his poker face. He'd seen it coming for years, but that didn't make him feel any better when it actually did.

"Pretty much," Hammond answered. "Oh, a couple things. I was up all night whittling the list of off-base candidates to under 200. That should help you a bit. I had the files delivered to your office this morning. Any of our field personnel who aren't COs are fair game too, but you'll have to replace anyone you pick off the existing teams. Oh, and if you want to, go ahead and let the others know what's going on. Have a good break, and see you next week."

MONDAY, JAN. 30, 2006 1300 HOURS

"So he's kicking me upstairs and making me a paper shuffler," O'Neill fumed.

"Jack, maybe he's right," Samantha Carter said from the other end of the phone line.

"You too, Carter? Please tell me I'm hallucinating."

"It's been an amazing eight and a half years... but I'm not sure I want to keep doing this for much longer. Daniel's been offered tenure at a dozen big-name universities, and I think he's ready for a change of pace. Teal'c... his plate's full, between SG-1, training recruits both for us and the Free Jaffa, and getting ready to take Bra'tac's place. And think about Cassie, sir... she may be in college now, but now we're the only family she's got."

"So I'm the only one who doesn't feel like standing down?"

"No, no, no!" Carter exclaimed. "All I'm saying is, maybe it's time. You've turned down command of the SGC how many times?"

"For crying out loud! Do you have to keep reminding me, Carter?"

"Sorry, sir."

"And it's only twice so far, ya know?"

"Seemed like more."

O'Neill couldn't tell any more if his 2IC was being serious or flippant. Just in case... "So I try to make myself clear when I'm objecting, you know that."

Carter sighed loudly, exasperated. "Look, if it's just action you want, I can't think of a better command assignment. Even if it's a desk job, it's a desk job thirty thousand light-years from Earth."

"That makes me feel a whole lot better already," O'Neill deadpanned. Even over the phone, his sarcasm was obvious.

"At least think about it for now, Jack. Just think about it."

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And so it begins... any thoughts/tips/critiques? Please review, and let me know how you think this is shaping up! More chapters coming as I write them...