Technicians Harriman, Davis, and Simmons gradually shuffle the spiraling staircase that leads to the briefing room and merges with their boss's office. Albeit the incredulous climate from topside witnessed by the Courier Report, a military television channel that displays the weather, the day has seen distinction for numerous teams off-world and Earthside. With SG-11 returning, two teams — SG-1 and SG-2 — remain off-world with dissimilar assignments. One is scheduled to be off-world for a week, and the other has gone shockingly off-grid. Thus far, even now, with the general present on base, Colonel Reynolds has been the assuming leader of Command and has a tall order under his supervision regarding the front-line team. It's imprecise what he's done with the information from Simmons, but three technicians will advise the general.
"I'm so nervous," mummers Simmons. The comment isn't intended to be heard, yet Davis and Harriman heard it.
Harriman delivers a pitying expression, reasoning, "Don't be. We've had worse."
Simmons scuffs, abruptly halting to pivot and glimpse at the senior technician. That's something he didn't want to hear aloud. He wordlessly shakes his head and continues up the staircase.
Well, it's not like Harriman is mistaken with his statement about Command encountering something similar. One prominent instance is when Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter were deserted in an Antarctic crevasse for hours too close to death. And, yeah, of course, there are other moments, too, but that one bites the cake. The colonel was severely incapacitated and unconscious, and SG-1 was sidelined extensively while their leader (and captain, with her minor injuries) underwent surgery and was rehabbed. If this is comparable, then the technicians and maintenance workers are conditioned for what to do with the stargate.
They've reached the top of the staircase. It's now or never, with the latter not being an option since it's considered unethical and a breach of protocol. Next, the trio saunter into the general's office after Davis raps a knock against the open door.
"Come," commands the general, his attention unwavering from the paperwork before him as his fingers type on the keyboard.
Simmons enters the room first, followed by Davis and Harriman; they stand before the wooded desk in the order.
General Hammond's office has been rearranged with the insertion of an L-shaped desk. His chair swivels to the right on the shorter part of the desk, and if he swivels left and forward, he'll be fronting the 'gate, courtesy of the walled plexiglass. Though his back is to the door that leads to the briefing room, decades of conditioning have strengthened his senses to know when someone is entering the opposing door. A few more beats of hush filled with keyboard clicks, and then the general swirls forward.
The base commander is met with three of his technicians. It's an abnormal scene, with the trio's hands clasped behind their backs and their noticeable — and failing — endeavor to inspect everything in the office that isn't him. The general is perplexed, his mouth slightly agape and eyes roaming the technicians as they're at attention. He concludes with a sigh.
"At ease," he dully instructs.
Davis, Simmons, and Harriman do as summoned. The youngest of the trio kind-of releases a series of short exhales as if he were holding his breath. Davis rolls her eyes and softly pats his back.
Harriman readjusts his glasses and then clears his throat. "General," he starts. Well, he finishes also because, like Carter, he begins and ends a sentence with a superior's rank. The base commander's eyes redirect his way, yet, with years of experience, the senior technician evades eye contact by gazing at the following company in the room.
The Southern drawl is rich with the additional question: "What can I help you three with?"
"General Hammond," nobly forms Davis with a step forward. "There's a point of urgency that must be brought to your attention."
"I've gathered that from you lot's unusual behavior that's not with the typical status quo, Sergeant. How about this: Close the doors and pull up a seat, the three of you."
Simmons strolls to close the left entrance's door, and Davis mirrors by closing the right entrance's doors that lead to the briefing room; Harriman stands back and leans against a sliver of unobstructed wall near the plexiglass. Davis shoots Harriman an evil regard before she and Simmons sit in one of the chairs before their boss's desk.
"Now, it's just the four of us. Lay it on the table for me," suggests Hammond.
Simmons's conviction rises once more. He clears his throat and explains, "As you're aware, SG's 1, 2, and 11 were off-world, with 11 returning a few hours ago." Simmons pauses his first sentence to heed the general, who nods at his comment. The technician continues, "We've corresponded with the two mandated check-ins and curfew, smoothly connecting with Colonel Ferretti and Colonel Edward when the latter was off-world earlier. However, we've been incapable of contacting any member of SG-1, even with their curfew."
"What are you trying to tell me, son?" questions Hammond. Naturally, his concern is elevated, but this isn't the first time that something like this has transpired with SG-1 or any subsequent teams, yet he doesn't comprehend why it demands the three of them to tell him as such. The Stargate Command has learned from prior sequences and now has a developed protocol that heeds.
Harriman pushes off of the wall and enters the fold. "What we're trying to tell you, general, is that we're incapable of reaching Colonel O'Neill or any other front-line team member, and Captain Carter also requested a 672."
Right, OK. General Hammond now understands the presence of three of his exemplary technicians and not just one or two of them. Really, they should've led with that instead of what he already knows, but to eaches own. The room is hushed.
After a few more beats: "And when this first came about. . ." trials the general.
". . .I automatically informed Colonel Reynolds, sir, yes," guarantees Simmons, the assignee set to contact SG-1 via GDO, with a nod.
The base commander turns to the right-side entrance and barks, "Airperson!"
The door quickly opens, and they enter. The general advises, "Maddox, see that Colonel Reynolds is mindful that I require his presence in my office no later than the next ten minutes."
"Yes, sir," says Maddox before they close the door, and their steel-toed footfalls echo through the corridor.
General Hammond rises from his chair and walks to the stocked bookshelf to retrieve a raven binder. "And, by any chance, do we know what surrounds the 672?" he asks as he skims through laminated pages.
The technicians have a nonverbal conversation, then Davis responds, "No, sir, we don't, though we may have a hypothesis."
"And that may be what, Sergeant?" requests Hammond. However, no answer came.
The general lifts his concentration from the pages and shifts it to the technicians who are unknowingly posing as troubled students in the principal's office. "Well?"
Harriman grabs a dry-erase marker and writes on the plexiglass. As he does so, he comments, "This was Captain Carter's code."
SG-1 SG-1-9 = 1 = 672.
Hammond closes the binder and swiftly walks to his desk. He bends and reaches for the Red Phone on the second shelf of the desk, placing it on top of confidential documents, then quickly pressing buttons before lifting the phone to his ear.
"This is General Hammond. Please patch me through to the President. It is of utmost importance."
The technicians aren't sure what to do; they don't know if they're dismissed. The right-side door opens and enters Colonel Reynolds, adoring a DBU set with a dark-gray top neatly tucked into his pants.
The small room is crowded, so Davis and Simmons exit their seats to stand. Reynolds bids them a nod towards the left-side door, and, just like that, they're on their way out of the door.
Colonel Reynolds poses with his hands clasped behind his back, patiently waiting for the general to finish his conversation on the Red Phone; the latter man does so, and he deeply sighs.
"You're knowledgeable of this, right?" questions the general as he already knows the answer; nevertheless, he hopes for reassurance.
"Yes, sir. Earlier, Simmons reported to me, and so far, I've spoken with Davis and some additional members at the Pentagon," replies Reynolds.
The base commander sits in his chair again, reclining with an exhale. At this moment, it feels like that's all he can do. "You saw what the code insinuates?" he says.
"Yes, sir." Reynolds pivots and strides to the plexiglass to examine the written code. "It's something concerning Colonel O'Neill or all of SG-1. It reads as follows: SG-1, SG-One-Niner — Colonel O'Neill — and a Class One lockdown. He, or all of them, may be compromised."
Hammond nods. "Unfortunately, we can't overlook this, even if we wanted to. In a way, we've walked ourselves into a wall by linking all GDO software to the database; the information is automatically inserted and can't be removed. We must treat them as hostiles until we know what's going on."
Reynolds rotates to meet the eyes of his commander. He pauses, then replies, "Understood, sir."
