Paper Cuts
“Dismissed.” I gave the major a nod of farewell and turned back to the report. It was interesting reading.
SG-5 had stumbled across what seemed to be a Goa’uld armoury, long abandoned for some unknown reason. They had returned from the planet in a state of extreme excitement. An excited Marine is a truly frightening sight. Reports sent back on the preliminary investigations were very promising, to put it mildly. Apart from increasing our supply of zats and staff weapons there had been a ribbon device and several other, as yet unidentified, items of Goa’uld technology. Excited scientists aren’t as scary as excited Marines, but they are much more bouncy. Especially Carter, she practically danced all the way out of my office, a gleam in her eyes, and a smile on her lips.
Now their report was in my hands. Believe it or not, I found it fascinating. I knew we had to be very careful handling this, or they would all be shipped straight to Area 51. We should get a chance to look at them first. I was sick of Area 51 getting all the good stuff and leaving us with the ‘rocks’. Don’t get me wrong, artifacts are very nice, especially as paperweights, but they don’t usually kill Goa’uld. This stuff might.
I had to do a bit of ‘politicking’.
General Hammond agreed with me, so I made a few calls, called in a few small favours, and was off to Washington.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
This time I didn’t fly commercial. Nope, direct to Washington, into the waiting car, and straight to the White House.
This time I wasn’t mucking around.
I was shown in and asked to wait. Apparently the President was finishing his lunch.
I should have brought a book. Instead I had to make do with re reading the reports in my briefcase, not the most interesting of occupations considering I had already practically memorised them. I was just thinking of drawing little pictures in all the margins when the door opened and someone else was shown into the room.
“General O’Neill.” He sounded like he had just found something very unpleasant on his doorstep that the dog had vomited up.
“Senator Kinsey.” I smiled – the smile I reserved for those people I felt needed to die a slow and agonising death.
We were just eyeing each other, waiting to see who would make the next move, when the door to the Oval Office opened and the President walked through. I shut my briefcase with a snap and stood. I felt the President’s eyes on me, speculating, then he turned his gaze to Kinsey and smiled.
“Senator Kinsey. I understand you wanted a word with me.” He turned back to me and I could see Kinsey’s lips turning up in a smug grin. “Jack, I’m sorry, they just told me you had arrived. Come through and have some lunch with me.” He turned back Kinsey and continued, “I’m sure you don’t mind waiting, do you Senator.”
With a quick clap on my shoulder, the President and I were off, leaving a stunned Kinsey glaring at my retreating back. “What did you think of those hockey playoffs, Jack…”
Payback is a bitch sometimes, isn’t it, Senator.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Lunch was fine; it was the discussion afterwards that sucked. The only positive thing about it was the thought that kept creeping in as time went on that Kinsey was cooling his heels in the outer office. The President and I seem to have a rapport. Hammond acknowledged that strange fact by having me talk to him whenever possible, but it didn’t seem to matter when it came to policy.
The contents of the Goa’uld armoury had to go to Area 51. I did manage to get a few concessions. The ribbon device and zats could stay at the SGC, our scientists could have the rest of the stuff for eight weeks, then it had to be sent off to that giant gaping hole that all our good discoveries vanished into, never to be seen again. Sort of made you wonder where it all went – I imagined a future where we all flew around in hover cars like in the old 60s cartoon, ‘The Jetsons’, and couldn’t help laughing. Yeah, right!
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I grabbed the first flight back to Peterson, not even bothering to change. It was late by the time I got in so I went straight home to catch a few hours sleep.
The morning came all too soon, as I pried my eyes open long enough to look at the clock. I used to be a morning person, but then I used to be able to stay up until all hours and be bright and cheerful the next day. Those days had gone the same way as the colour in my hair. Off world it isn’t a problem, I’m always first up, coffee brewing, ready to meet the new day and new challenges, but here, on Earth, sometimes the days have become a chore. Today was going to be one of those days. I was SO not looking forward to telling Carter we would have to give the doohickies away.
I drove up the mountain and was knocking on General Hammond’s door by 0800. I don’t think that he really expected any other news if his face was anything to go by; that resigned look we seemed to have whenever anything to do with Washington came up.
Then he gave me his piece of wonderful news.
The Senate Appropriations Committee had requested in depth reports on all gate activations for the past twelve months.
George looked at me.
I looked at George.
“Who have you annoyed, Jack?”
I rested my head in my hands and groaned.
“You were only there a few hours. What could you have possibly done?” His voice was carefully controlled, resigned even.
For crying out loud! This is so unfair.
“It wasn’t my fault!” As I said it, I had a sudden flash to a kid shouting, ‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.’ Well I didn’t! George sighed deeply and shut his eyes for a moment.
“It was the President’s fault.”
That got his attention. He opened one eye and peered at me.
“Do tell.” You know, Hammond has as good a line in sarcasm as the Doc, it’s just that he reserves it for the extremely rare moments that he is very, very annoyed.
“I don’t think that the President likes Kinsey.”
George rubbed his hand over his face. “Why do you say that, Jack?”
“Because he made the Senator wait while I ate lunch with him.”
“Oh God! We’ll be writing reports until we retire!” George’s anguished cry made me wince.
“It wasn’t my fault!” I think my cry rivalled his. Any minute now we would be sobbing on each other’s shoulders.
We were two grown men, in positions of great responsibility. We could handle this. We could think of a way out of it.
Then I had a brilliant flash of inspiration.
“I could kill him.”
For a second I think he actually considered it.
“No one would suspect me. Not after last time.”
He looked thoughtful.
Then George shook himself as if freeing himself from a pleasant dream. “No. I appreciate the offer, Jack, but we really can’t assassinate the head of the Senate Appropriations Committee.”
Crap!
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I decided to eat my lunch in my office, worriedly going through all my options.
I could retire.
I could fly to Washington and lick Kinsey’s arse.
I could go on an extended mission off world and leave George to handle the paperwork.
I could shoot the man and just make him disappear. George would never need to know.
I could buckle down and do the paperwork.
Nope – not a single good solution in the bunch.
Then it came to me. I had access to some of the best minds in the country. Why not use them.
Within a few minutes of my requesting their presence, Teal’c, Daniel and Carter were in my office.
“How was your trip to Washington, sir?” Carter had that eager look on her face I normally associate with Daniel.
“It was the biggest ballsup since the elephant rolled over.”
There was total silence. Teal’c and Carter’s faces showed complete incomprehension. Daniel’s took on a red hue.
Then he laughed.
He seriously lost it. He started wheezing as he fought for breath, his eyes streaming tears. I looked on in disgust. Finally he wiped his eyes and straightened up, grinning.
“I take it that is an expression you picked up on your vacation?” He turned to the others before I had a chance to answer. “Ballsup is when something is done incorrectly, a complete and total mess.”
“Would not Americans say fu…”
Daniel didn’t let Teal’c finish. “Yes – at least if what I think you were going to say is right.” His grin grew even broader, “But I’ve never heard the phrase Jack just used before.”
I still wasn’t smiling.
Carter wasn’t smiling either. She looked a bit embarrassed, a bit upset, a bit annoyed, and a bit concerned, all combining to give her a worried expression.
“So there was a problem?”
“You could say that. That’s why I sent for you.” I started by breaking the news to her about the eight week deadline. She was understandably upset, but then I could see that emotion taken over by another one – urgency. She was ready to turn and run back to her lab and begin work, only military discipline holding her in place. I couldn’t do it to her, couldn’t make her stay and help with my little problem when both she and I knew every second of those eight weeks counted.
“Sorry I couldn’t do any better, Carter.” I nodded a dismissal. “You better get to work.”
She barely took time for a “Yes, sir” before leaving, practically running.
The other two members of my team gave me quizzical looks.
“Why do I have the feeling that wasn’t the only reason you sent for us?” Daniel pulled out a chair and sat down, settling his glasses more comfortably on his nose as he did so.
“Because you’d be right.” I didn’t bother telling Teal’c to take a seat, I knew he was more comfortable standing, so I launched straight into an explanation. By the end of it Daniel was smiling, and Teal’c looked sort of hungry.
“Can we not kill him, O’Neill?”
I knew there was a reason why I liked Teal’c so much. I shook my head sorrowfully. “Unfortunately, that’s a ‘no’.”
Teal’c looked as disappointed as I was. “It would be quite legal on Chulak, O’Neill.”
“Uh….Jack?” Daniel’s gaze was shifting back and forth between Teal’c and myself, as if he was waiting for the punch line.
“Yes, Daniel?”
“Can I offer a suggestion?”
I managed to raise a tiny, hopeful smile. “Sure.”
“Tell the President.”
I sighed, lowering my eyes despondently to the already overflowing in tray on the corner of my desk. “I can’t do that, Daniel. The request is one the committee has every right to make and I don’t have any grounds for complaint. The fact that it will tie up Hammond and I in paperwork is something that we can point out, especially as the information is already available in different forms, but I can’t see us getting any sympathy from Kinsey. It’s the timing of it that stinks.”
I pictured several colour-coded trays neatly aligned against the edge of my desk, each with little printed labels, and each overflowing with forms.
I pushed my chair back quickly and stood.
“I’m going to go shoot something.”
I had left the office before they could even react.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I stood in the shower, letting the warm water ease my tense shoulder muscles. Although scaring the young airmen out at the range by demolishing a few targets with my P90 had been fun, it hadn’t done anything to solve my problem. I hadn’t felt this tense for weeks, not since before my vacation.
After my injury and then the health scare, Teal’c, Carter and Daniel had conspired with George and the Doc to make me organise the trip I had been given for my birthday.
I landed in Sydney, Australia on a wet, windy, thoroughly miserable day. Not at all what I expected. No clear blue skies, and warm temperatures. I suppose someone has to be there when it rains, but why me? I looked out the window of my hotel room and watched the green and tan ferries busily crossing the harbour and disgorging umbrella holding people, all of whom vanished into the featureless office blocks surrounding Circular Quay.
Despite the Doc’s orders, I made my way to the hotel bar.
It was the best thing I could have done. I returned to the SGC with a tan from the sun filled days that followed the rain and an enormously increased vocabulary from my new drinking buddies, much to Daniel’s obvious amusement.
I had come back relaxed and ready for work.
I should have stayed in Sydney.
I was not a happy little vegemite.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
My skin was starting to wrinkle by the time I left the shower, but I was beginning to have the inkling of a plan. I dressed and went to find George. He was in the Control Room waiting for SG-7 to return from their investigation of the mineral deposits on PDX-733. I gave him a quick run down of my idea and left him in a much happier frame of mind.
That night I slept well.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
“General O’Neill?” My aid poked his head around the door of the locker room, “There is a call for you from the President.”
I finished tying my laces. “Please tell him I’m busy and I’ll have to call him back. Ask him if there is any message.”
“Sir?” The horrified look on his face was echoed by the other listeners, whose ears had pricked up as soon as the word “President” had been uttered.
“Is there a problem?” I gave my best glare and he snapped to attention.
“No, General.” I nodded a dismissal and he practically ran out of the room.
I left the locker room unhurriedly, secretively smiling at the whispers that erupted before the door had even closed behind me.
“The President asked you to ring back, sir.” I had barely made it into the room before my aid gave me the message, his voice anxious.
I sat behind my desk, eyeing the mounds of paper covering it with a bleak smile, then, after sufficient time had passed, I returned the President’s call.
He didn’t sound happy. I apologised for the delay and explained that I was unable to discuss the hockey final as I had so much work to catch up on. My conversation was brief, to the point, formal, and swift.
I hung up and grinned.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I took several more calls from the President over the next week or so. Each time I was professional, courteous and brief. No chats. No long discussions.
It was one Saturday afternoon when George called me to his office.
His face was impassive as I sat down.
“I’ve just had a complaint from the President.” His tone was level.
I raised my Teal’c eyebrow. “Really? I’m sorry to hear that. What was it concerning?”
With his face breaking into a grin as wide as Texas he replied. “He wanted to know why you were so busy all the time. I reluctantly told him about the extra paperwork.”
“Reluctantly?”
“Well I made it clear I didn’t want to complain.”
I smiled. “Of course not.”
“He told me that he would look into it.”
We were both grinning like maniacs.
“Sweet.”
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
My desk was clear. My in trays were empty.
“Sir, the President’s on the line.”
I picked up the receiver.
“Great game wasn’t it, Mr President? Sure, I’ve got time to talk.” I sat back and put my feet up on the desk, getting comfortable.
Life is good sometimes.
The End
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