by Cynthia J. Klawitter
winterjameson@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: Humor
PAIRINGS: None
SPOILERS: Hints of Secrets, Nemesis, Prodigy, Meridian/Fallen
SEASON: Season 7
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNING: Rampant silliness, but nothing you won’t recover from in the morning.
SUMMARY: It’s all fun and games when the Pentagon decides the SGC is going to participate in a region-wide morale-boosting exercise.
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters belong to MGM/UA, Showtime/Viacom, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is merely for entertainment purposes. No money has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
* * * * * * * *
“So, George, how are things going at the mountain?” Brigadier General Matthew Kerrigan of the US Air Force Academy asked Major General George Hammond, USAF, of Stargate Command, as he entered the room at the Pentagon that was almost overflowing with high-ranking military brass. Lieutenant Colonel William Krenz, USAF, had called all of the commanding officers of the Four Corners Region military bases to Washington D.C. for a meeting, the subject of which was still unknown to the occupants of the room.
Hammond was just happy to be able to get away from Cheyenne Mountain for a while, even if it was for a meeting of the brass that had been promised not to be about an emergency, and thus destined to be boring as hell. “Not bad, Matt, not bad at all. At least as smoothly as can be expected.”
The younger man grinned. “Left Jack in charge, did you? Are you sure you’re going to have a base to come home to when this is over?”
“Let’s not borrow trouble,” George replied, returning the expression. “My second in command is more than capable of taking care of things, but considering his and his team’s luck, a comment like that is like thumbing your nose at Fate.”
“Just who is your second in command, George?” Brigadier General Robert Bishop of Utah’s Hill Air Force Base, a thin, older gentleman, asked, stepping over to the two friends.
Hammond’s smile turned to one of pride. “Colonel Jack O’Neill.”
“Colonel Jonathan O’Neill?” Brigadier General Hilbert Zimmerman of Arizona’s Davis-Monthan Air Force Base asked incredulously. “Didn’t he retire?”
“Twice,” yet another man added.
“How did you get him to come back?” a sixth member of the growing conversation, Air Force Brigadier General Roy Schiedecker of Colorado’s Buckley ANGB, inquired as he joined in.
General number seven rolled his eyes. “Better yet, why would you want him to?”
Hammond shared a knowing look with Kerrigan. “Colonel O’Neill has proven himself to be a fine officer and a good man. He understands the value of what we’re doing, and has been almost everything I could ask for in a 2IC.”
Number seven raised a grey eyebrow. “We’re talking about the same Jack O’Neill, right? Cocky, irreverent, attitude to spare...”
“He knows when to put all that aside,” the bald Texan defended his second. “I’ve always been able to count on him in a crisis; he’s never let me down. He’s a much-decorated officer, and I’m proud to say I was able to present him with his most recent medal when the president was unable to do so. I have every confidence in him, and I would appreciate it if you would honor my belief in him. If you were to examine his record, I think you’d find it spoke louder than any words I could ever say.”
There was a brief moment of silence as the room absorbed what had just been said. “I think the fact that you’re willing to defend him so fiercely says everything that needs to be said about the man,” general number five said as diplomatically as possible. “I’ve heard my share about Jack O’Neill, and I’m glad to hear that he’s managed to do so well. So what exactly are you and O’Neill doing at Cheyenne Mountain, anyway? I’ve been a little out of the loop since I took over at Holloman.”
Hammond was more than happy to change the subject. “I’m sure New Mexico is as entertaining as Colorado, Lloyd, especially considering our focus on deep space telemetry.”
Brigadier General Lloyd Nelson shot the other man a suspicious look at the response. “Deep space telemetry? Are you kidding?”
“Why would he do that?” Kerrigan jumped in, hoping to save his friend from an explanation he knew the man hated to give. “Just because his facility’s classified...” He let his sentence trail off suggestively, delivering his hint to back off as delicately as he could.
“You can’t tell me they couldn’t come up with a better cover story than that,” Brigadier General Ernest Duffy, general number seven, scoffed, not taking the hint. He ran a hand through his short-cropped grey hair.
The other men sighed at the man’s persistence. They knew that Duffy had only recently been posted to New Mexico’s Kirtland Air Force Base, and was biding the last six months before retirement. “Leave the man alone, Duffy,” Major General Samuel Jones of Colorado’s Peterson Air Force Base said in an exasperated tone as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Kerrigan just said the base’s work is classified. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Actually, George, I wanted to ask you a question about borrowing a couple of your personnel,” Matthew said apologetically. “Do you think it might be possible for Major Carter and Doctor Jackson to give another couple of lectures at the academy some time next month? Mid-terms will just be getting over, and I think it would be a great way to get the cadets back on track.”
“I’ll have to double check their schedule and find out if they have anything else planned, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem. They both like taking time off and focusing on the more academic side of their training.”
The commanding officer of the Air Force Academy grinned. “How about Murry for some hand-to-hand work? I’ve got a few cadets who need a... reminder of the necessity of tip-top self-defense skills. They seem to be thinking that pretty good is good enough.”
Hammond laughed at that. “I’ll talk to him. In fact, why don’t I see if Colonel O’Neill can tag along as well? He’d be good for a few lectures on strategy and tactics, and then the whole team can give some instructional seminars on teamwork and the team dynamic. Now that Doctor Jackson’s returned, the four of them have gotten back on track.”
“How is Doctor Jackson? I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.”
“It’s almost like he never left.”
The door to the room opened at that point and admitted Major Paul Davis, USAF. “Generals,” he greeted them, snapping them all a sharp salute.
Hammond, Army Major General James Canasta of Utah’s Dugway Proving Ground, and Marine Major General Jonathon Forester of Arizona’s MCAS Yuma all returned the salute and the junior officer fully entered the room. “I didn’t realize you’d be here, Major,” George said to the man who served as the Pentagon’s liaison to his command.
Davis smiled. “I didn’t either, sir, until about an hour ago. General Krenz should be here shortly. This morning’s meeting is taking longer than expected.”
Ten minutes later Lieutenant General William Krenz was announced by his aide, and he and his secretary took their places at the head of the table, the other nineteen men following suit soon after. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here today.” The balding man smiled at the cliched opening before continuing. “It seems that the president and the Joint Chiefs believe we’re having a little problem with morale across the board at our military installations. While I can’t say that I agree, it has been decided that something needs to be done to correct the problem. Which is why I’ve brought you all together. The committee the Joint Chiefs put to work on this came up with a few activities that the Four Corners Region will be participating in. I’m sure I can count on your full cooperation.”
“What kind of activities are we talking about, sir?” Brigadier General Dale Akins from Colorado’s Schriever Air Force Base asked as his superior retrieved his notes from the briefcase he had brought in with him.
“Are the other regions participating as well?” Army Brigadier General James Schlegel of Arizona’s Fort Huachuca added, his bushy black eyebrows furrowing with confusion.
Krenz smiled. “The other regions will be conducting similar activities, yes, and most likely within the same time frame as ours. As for the activities, I have a list of five that we are to begin implementing one at a time as they prove successful.” The ranking officer in the room rolled his eyes. “As I said before I don’t believe these things are necessary, but we’ll do what we have to to keep everybody happy.” The general cleared his throat before continuing. “The first activity I have here is a contest to be held between each of the bases in our region. I know most if not all of you have heard of this kind of thing before. It’s a bachelor/bachelorette competition.”
You could almost hear the sound of nineteen jaws hitting the floor. “Excuse me, sir,” Major General Jerrold Smith of New Mexico’s Cannon Air Force Base began hesitantly. “Did you just say a bachelor/bachelorette competition?”
“We’re supposed to have a beauty pageant?” General Duffy asked incredulously.
“The committee can’t be serious, can they, sir?” Kerrigan inquired carefully. “It is a bit... frivolous, don’t you think?”
“I’m afraid they are,” Krenz replied apologetically. “Believe me, when I saw this list I double checked with the committee myself. They seem to think that showing off the best and brightest, not to mention the most beautiful, of our personnel is a great way to keep everybody’s spirits up during this time of public loss of faith in their government and personal safety. I guess we get to find out if they’re right.”
There was a general rumbling of discontent around the table, the men all sharing wary looks with one another. Finally, Major Davis made a gesture that drew Krenz’s attention. “Excuse me, General, but what does this have to do with me exactly? I’m not stationed at any of these bases.”
The man at the head of the table nodded. “I understand that, Major. You will be serving as the Pentagon’s liaison for this project, as you have experience in such matters. You’ll be keeping both sides up to date with the progress of these activities. I don’t believe it will interfere with your current duties in regards to Cheyenne Mountain.”
“I understand, sir.”
“If everyone could quiet down, I’ll explain this competition so we can move on to the other activities on my list.” The murmuring stopped. “We’ll have five men and five women from each base gather together and participate in a three-part competition to be judged by a total of six impartial judges, with any ties to be decided by myself as the Master of Ceremonies. The first part will be a casual wear competition, the second a formal wear competition, and the last a talent competition.”
Army Brigadier General Nathaniel Willis of New Mexico’s White Sands Missile Range gave a resignated sigh. “Since we’re stuck doing this, I have to ask. How are we going to be sure our judges are impartial?”
“I’ll be bringing in people from my staff. They’re actually looking forward to it, if you can believe that.”
“I can believe it,” Kerrigan whispered to Hammond. “They don’t have to participate.”
George fought back a smile before bringing up his own concern. “Excuse me, General Krenz, but will we be including civilians in this competition? I have a significant number of them on base, and they are a vital part of the operation at Cheyenne Mountain.” Besides, he thought ruefully, I need an answer before Doctor Jackson asks me the same thing.
Krenz smiled. “I thought of that myself, George. And the committee made it very clear that all personnel are to be included in the competition. The idea is that it will encourage good relations between military and civilians, as well as between the various bases in each region.”
Hammond sighed. “I see.”
Army Brigadier General Darien Scott of Colorado’s Fort Carson chuckled at the other man’s reaction. “Got a few civilians who won’t like that, eh, George? Join the club. I’ve got a good couple of handfuls that are going to keep my ears ringing about this for months.”
“So when exactly is this competition supposed to be taking place?” Brigadier General Aaron Brooks of Arizona’s Luke Air Force Base asked, a distinct tone of distaste in his voice.
“Three months from now,” was the understanding response. “This should give all of you time to choose your participants and for them to come up with their talent entries.”
“And how do we pick these participants?” Brigadier General David Thompson of Utah’s Tooele Army Depot queried with a small frown. “I suppose the committee has a full-blown plan to cover that, too.”
Krenz laughed at that. “Actually, they decided to leave that to the individual bases, so you can each decide how your participants get chosen. I think it was easier for the committee that way. We’ll be holding it at Peterson.” General Jones nodded his understanding.
After a few more unimportant comments, the meeting continued, each following activity offered by the committee received with as much enthusiasm as the first.
* * * * * * * *
General George Hammond quietly entered the conference room where he was holding the meeting with his team leaders and department heads to fill them in on the Pentagon’s latest attempt at morale boosting and looked around. He saw his second in command talking with two other members of SG-1, Doctor Daniel Jackson and Major Samantha Carter, the two of them present in their capacities as department heads. Doing a preliminary head count, he found that only seven of the expected thirty-three people had yet to arrive. Hammond took the opportunity to find out what two-thirds of his premier team were up to and headed over in their direction.
“Ah, General, how nice of you to join us,” Jack O’Neill said expansively when the older man reached his destination. “I take it this little party has something to do with your jaunt to Washington.”
“You could say that,” Hammond replied with a smile.
“I thought you said that the meeting wasn’t supposed to be about anything important,” Carter commented, a questioning expression on her face.
George sighed. “I wouldn’t exactly say it was important, but it does affect everyone here. I’m not sure how thrilled you’re all going to be about it, that’s for sure.”
Daniel shared a quizzical look with his teammates. “What happened in Washington?”
“I’ll wait until everyone gets here and share it with all of you at one time. That way you only have to share your reservations once. And yes,” the general said before SG-1 could ask, “you will have reservations. Trust me. I have reservations. We just don’t have any choice.”
“You know I hate it when you say things like that, General,” Jack said with a small frown. “Bad things tend to happen when you say things like that.”
At that point, Hammond noticed that the last few people had arrived. “I need to get this meeting started. I promise you’ll all get your chance to ask questions.” He gave them an apologetic smile and moved to the head of the table, effectively calling the meeting to order. The senior officer greeted them all, thanking them for taking the time out of their busy schedules to attend, then quickly outlined the Pentagon’s proposed competition. “Does anyone have any questions?” he asked finally, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught.
“Uh, yes, sir,” Jack offered into the stunned silence. “Are these people serious? They want us to hold a region-wide beauty pageant?”
“I hope they don’t expect a swimsuit competition,” Captain Lorraine DeMarco, the woman in charge of the clerical department, muttered in irritation.
Hammond sighed. “Yes, Colonel, they are definitely serious. And no, Captain, there won’t be a swimsuit competition. The three categories are casual wear, formal wear, and talent.” He paused for a moment, gauging his audience’s level of disbelief. “Look, people, I’m not any more fond of this idea than you are, but we have our orders. Cheyenne Mountain will be participating in this event, and I expect us to give it our full effort.”
“Um, excuse me,” Daniel interjected with a raise of his hand, “but will the civilians on base be expected to participate? I mean, this is supposed to be for the military, right?”
George fought back a grin at his accurate guess of Doctor Jackson’s reaction. “I’m afraid everyone at the SGC, civilian and military alike, will be getting involved in this event, Doctor Jackson. The only personnel that won’t be will be our foreign teams and, of course, Teal’c. They would be just a little too difficult to explain. I was informed that this is supposed to encourage better relations between civilian and military personnel as well as between bases.”
Jack didn’t even try to contain his grin at the deepening scowl on his friend’s face at that pronouncement. “There you go, Danny boy, equality between military and civilians. Just what you’ve always wanted.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of actually in the workplace, Jack.”
“So how are we supposed to pick these ten people, General?” Doctor Janet Fraiser, Chief Medical Officer of the SGC, asked, her voice weary with resignation.
“Well, that’s the second reason I called all of you together for this meeting,” the general replied. “I was hoping we could figure out an effective way that will be fair to everyone. Any ideas?”
There was a long moment of silence as the people seated around the large conference table considered the problem. “We could just draw names out of a hat,” Lieutenant Colonel Louis Ferretti, team leader of SG-2, offered casually when the quiet got too much for him. Daniel’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, figuring his chances of not being chosen were quite good with that option.
O’Neill scowled. “No way, Ferretti. With my luck I’d be the first person picked. Doesn’t anyone else have anything?”
“I have to agree with Colonel O’Neill,” Hammond said. “We have to do our best, and I don’t think that the majority of the personnel’s wishes will be represented that way. Anything else?”
“I think I may have something, sir,” Sam offered, a thoughtful expression shaping her features. “We could come up with a ballot of the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes and let all of the personnel vote. That way we can be sure that the ten people that participate in this competition are the people the majority of our people want to represent them.”
The general nodded. “That sounds like an excellent plan, Major. Are there any objections?” No one said anything. “Then I believe we have it, people. The ballots will be prepared and distributed within the next two days. Does anyone have anything else?”
The group of them finalized the plans for the ballot, then shared a few other concerns before breaking things up and returning to their work. Jack, Daniel, and Sam were the last to leave, and the three of them shared a dread-filled look, not looking forward to the upcoming event in the least.
Go to part two
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