Brigadier General O'Neill's Office
O'Neill's head was resting on his arms, which were supported by the daily mountain of paper work in which he was inundated. Wearily, he raised his head and leaned back in his chair, not at all feeling disposed to attempt the work. He wished that his migraine would go away, but it would not. O'Neill slowly worked his gaze over to the source of his dilemma and was filled with the urge to pick up the red phone, but thought better of it. It had been two days since he placed that call and the president still hadn't told him anything. He had called everyone he knew, even General Hammond, but no one would tell him a thing. He felt like his hands were tied behind his back and all he wanted to do was lash out.
The Be'nox was no use, for all they got out of him was his name, which was no good at all. He was pulling their chain, giving them just enough to keep them interested. O'Neill was just about ready to let Teal'c have his way with him. What comfort O'Neill had on the crisis was the fact that the Be'nox weren't doing anything as of yet. They had contacted other friendly worlds and haven't heard any word of Be'nox aggression. It was as if the enemy was quite content to stay where they were indefinitely. O'Neill had a gut feeling that this wasn't going to be the case. If the Be'nox were truly the predecessors to the Go'ald, then they would most certainly expand to acquire new worlds, which they were quite capable of doing. The question was, why weren't they?
O'Neill's head started heading back down to the desk when he was startled by the phone which he despised. Head jerking back in surprise, O'Neill immediately reached for the phone. He caught himself, however, and slowly picked it up and put it to his ear. "Yes, Mr. President."
"I haven't been elected yet, Jack," said the unwelcome voice over the speaker.
"Oh, it's you," O'Neill said somewhat in disgust. "Why are you using the presidents' phone?"
"We work in the same place, Jack," the vice-president replied. "Besides, the president is busy preparing for his State of the Union address, and wanted me to inform you."
O'Neill waited for the V.P. to go on and when he didn't, O'Neill irritably asked, "Inform me of what?"
The vice-president took a second, obviously enjoying O'Neill's frustration. "That you are to do nothing about the Be'nox, or whatever you call them."
O'Neill was shocked. "Do nothing?"
"That's correct, general. Nothing at all."
"Vice-president, these are the toughest guys we've ever faced, and you actually expect us to just sit on our hands and do nothing? If they wanted they could waltz over here and crush us just like that. And there's nothing we can do to stop them."
"Well," said the vice-president. "If we had just left that piece of stone locked up and never opened up the Pandora's box, we wouldn't have this problem, would we?"
"Not that old argument again," O'Neill said, his anger at the incompetent politician growing. "You've hung around McKinsey too much."
"He was right, you know," the vice-president shot back, losing his patience. "That thing has brought nothing but danger after perilous danger to this planet, and it was only by sheer luck that we've managed to stay alive."
O'Neill, fueled by anger and mounting frustration, totally lost control, no longer caring that the person with whom he was arguing had the ear of the president. "Listen, I don't give a damn about your worn-out rhetoric! We opened that gate, we stepped through that gate and no matter how hard you click your heels together, we can't go back. We're too deep into this now for you to just pull the plug and expect everything to go to your fantasy world!"
"O'Neill," the vice-president voice was threatening. "I'm warning you…"
"That's all you're good for, Mr. Vice-President," O'Neill snapped. "Warnings, words. Reduced budgets. I am the commander of this facility and I am personally responsible for the safety of every single person that walks through that gate! How do you expect me to do that when all you give me is beans to work with?"
There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Brigadier General Jack O'Neill," the V.P. said stately. "You are under orders by the President of the United States, the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff to indefinitely terminate the Stargate program. Effective immediately."
That was enough to shut O'Neill up. He suddenly leaned back into his chair, and it took him a few seconds to fully grasp what he had heard. When he did, however, he was immediately filled with outrage. "What? The Stargate is vital to the defense of this planet! You can't just turn it off like a light!"
The vice-president didn't attempt to hide the glee in his voice. "Oh, but we have, O'Neill. And it's a long time overdue, I say. That relic has been nothing but a sore to this country, diverting billions of dollars away from vital national defense and giving little in the way of usable military hardware in return. It has hurt our reputation abroad, led to the deaths' of many promising Air Force personnel and…"
"You have no right to tell me about casualties, Mr. Vice-President," O'Neill said, his teeth clenched together.
"Then we understand each other?" the Vice-president asked. O'Neill didn't respond. "Good. In that case, you are under orders to immediately disconnect the Stargate from the base's power and are to weld the Iris permanently in place. The Stargate is to then be relocated at Area 51, where it will be transported to an undisclosed location for disposal. You are to contact General Miller and begin the process of filtering Stargate personnel back into the Air Force, where they belong. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly," O'Neill said as he hung up his phone, not wanting to give the V.P. the pleasure of doing so. He sat in his chair for a moment, then knew what he had to do. Without hesitation, he got out of his chair and headed for the control room.
Control Room
O'Neill walked up to where Walther was sitting. The technician was about to say hello, when he noticed the generals' mood and thought better of it. Now was not the time for small talk. "Get Carter, Jackson and Teal'c down here," O'Neill ordered.
"Yes, sir," Walther responded, calling their names over the intercom.
"And see if you can contact Thor," requested O'Neill. He stood with his arms crossed while Walther began to work, and thought about what he was going to do. It was in direct violation with his standing orders, but he didn't care. This was something he should have done days ago. The three soon entered the room, and came over to where O'Neill stood.
"What is it, O'Neill?" Teal'c inquired of his old friend.
"We're going to go contact the Tok'ra and see if they'll help us against the Be'nox," answered O'Neill.
"I thought we weren't allowed to leave Earth?" Jackson asked.
"Change in orders." It was half-true, he thought to himself.
"Do you think they will?" posed Carter. "They haven't been too receptive of us lately."
"Well, then I guess that's what we're going to find out," O'Neill said simply. "Let's get saddled up."
With that the four old members of the venerated SG-1 set out for another mission.