“Thank you, Sir. You won’t regret it. I assure you, we’ll all act with the utmost respect and maturity and..”
“Jack.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“From any other man, I may have believed that, but you…”
He’s actually smiling. Hammond is grinning like a fiend.
“Just get out of my office.”
“Yes Sir!”
I salute the General with every ounce of respect I can muster. The man deserves it. He’s just signed off on a whole two week vacation for SG-1. Not only that, the man has agreed to my phenomenal idea of making it a group affair. After my well rehearsed and highly moving speech that Carter and Daniel never actually go anywhere when we get leave, and do, in fact, carry on working to the detriment of their own well-being, the big man agreed in a heartbeat. The big fat tear rolling down my cheek may have been overkill, but it worked didn’t it?
We’re gonna go on the perfect vacation. I’m taking the kids around England, in an RV. No naquada ridden doohikeys for Carter to play with, no enemies for Teal’c to damage, and plenty of goa’uld free history for Daniel to explore.
Now to find the kids and give them the good news. Oh, I know they’ll argue. Carter will moan about some experiment, Teal’c will growl out a threat to disembowel me, slowly, and Daniel will just pout. But, like any wayward child, I’ll simply ignore their pleas, disavow the unwanted behaviour, and drag them kicking and screaming out the door. I know what’s best for them. They’ll learn that eventually.
And we’re walking! I know they’ll all be holed up in Daniel’s office. Carter’s got some reactor in hers that’s taking up every available space, and Teal’c doesn’t have an office.
Ah, the elevator. Oh, that's just swell. Now I’m in a tightly enclosed space with some spotty adolescent Private staring at me. Yeah, I’m smiling, Bucko. Don’t get too used to it.
Ah, there’s Daniel’s door. Hell, now I’m whistling for Christ’s sake. Oh, this vacation is gonna be good.
Now for my grand entran… Well, crap!
What am I faced with in Daniel’s myriad of mysteries? Three strapping young SG-1 members, busy researching the latest planet? Nope. Three happy, smiling faces, ready for their next adventure? Definitely nope. All I get is a rather depressed looking archaeologist, a Major with a serious case of the scowls, and a Jaffa who looks like he needs to maim someone.
Okay, here goes. Be brave. “Hey, what’s wrong with you guys?”
“Everything, Jack.”
Okaay, Daniel’s obviously not a happy camper. He’s got his elbows resting on the table and his head in his hand. He looks thoroughly miserable.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Oh.” Well, what else can I say? Carter doesn’t look any better, and where was my salute, Major? Does it not say ‘Colonel’ anywhere on my uniform? Oh, I’m wearing civvies. D’oh!
Maybe now’s the time to go in for the kill. “Well, I have some good news.” I can’t help it. I’m grinning. Both Teal’c and Carter have broken their respective states of self pity long enough to look in my direction, and have at least had the decency to look slightly hopeful. Daniel, on the other hand, now has the deepest frown I’ve ever seen. If he carries on like that, it’ll become permanent.
Oh, he’s pointing his finger at me. That means he’s about to start talking at a million miles an hour and, most likely, get progressively louder.
”Jack, unless you can tell me exactly how to translate this text from P3X-445…”
Here he goes.
“… explain to me why I can’t wear my own underwear under my uniform, and exactly why the military, and life in general, has to be filled with annoying abbreviations, then GO AWAY!”
Did I say he gets progressively louder? Whenever I act like this, Daniel says I’m in my ‘I’m feeling crappy, so you’re going to suffer too’ mood. Well, I think he’s doing a mighty fine impression right now.
Hang on a minute. Did he just say what I think he just said?
“Abbreviations, Daniel?”
“Yes, Jack, abbreviations. I hate them, and they’re everywhere!”
Oh yeah, now he’s doing his uncanny impression of a child having a hissy fit. Maybe I can cheer him up a bit.
“Daniel, you’re a linguist. You love languages. Abbreviations are a part of language. Besides, there aren’t that many.”
Um… okaaay, perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to have said. Carter and Teal’c have taken a step back, and Daniel’s face is filled with what I can only classify as incredulous disgust. Oh dear, he’s standing up.
“Aren't that many, Jack? Aren't that many?”
Oops! He’s started to pace. I can see his cogs turning. They need greasing, buddy, I can hear ‘em squeak. Uh oh, he’s not just pointing now, he’s waving his finger at me. This could be bad. Very bad. I think he’s gonna explode. CALL THE HAZMAT TEAM!
“OK, Jack.”
Oh God, here he goes. Get Teal’c to read my eulogy, and I want to be cremated.
“We work for the USAF, where everything’s on the QT. I’m a multiple PHD, and some would even say a VIP and as such, you’re my CO.
“We wake up at 0500 and have a breakfast of OJ and SOS. I’ll check by PDA, where our ETA, past NORAD to the SGC is 0700. We’ll flash our ID, change into our BDUs and begin work on SG-1 with Teal’c and your 2IC with major PMT.”
“Hey!”
Phew, at least I’ve got Carter on my side.
"Who would look right at home on the cover of GQ."
Damn, he's good! Carter's gone all girly.
“We receive questionable INTEL from the bigwigs in Washington DC..."
Oh Jesus, he's not finished.
"...and then watch the MALP and the UAV before I perform endless research looking up URLs on my PC while Sam makes a computer model with CAD.
“We then get our ETD for our Special OP or S&R, or to find a ZPM, and despite your little ACL problem, the SFs load us up with ZATs, P90s, MP-5s and AMMO.”
“Daniel..”
“We then arrive on P3X – yadda, yadda, yadda, for me to make good PR with the locals who all look like ET.”
Okay, Daniel, I get it. You can stop now, buddy.
“We’ll then make camp…”
Oh Geez!
“…where we’ll have to endure yukky MRE’s that all taste of chicken.”
Yep, you see? I told ya. The decibels are going up. As well as his pitch actually. Only dogs will be able to hear him soon.
“I’ll then be trying to get you to see things from the locals POV so we don’t become AWOL or MIA, or worse, KIA or DOA.
“We’ll then make a run for the gate. You’ll get a chance to use all your C4, and I’ll dial the DHD, send our IDC using a GDO and arrive back at HQ hopefully without any of us needing CPR, the ER or the ICU!”
“Danny.” Please, someone help! He’s now prodding me every time he utters one of his vexing abbreviations. How am I going to explain these bruises to Janet?
“We’re then shut in ISO-1 where our lovely CMO subjects us to a CT-scan, a PET-scan, a CAT-scan, an MRI, hooks us up to an IV, STAT, and we’re tested endlessly for STDs and any anomalies in our DNA.”
You know, that rock behind Daniel’s right ear has a really interesting shape. Looks kinda like a donut.
“Then we’ll get interrogated by the IOA, the NID, the CIA and in the past, the FBI and the ATF, before we can escape from the mountain for some well earned R&R.”
I wonder if he’d notice if I took it and put it in my kitchen. My very own donut rock. Cool!
“We’ll speed past the MPs back to your house in your Ford F350 monster truck where you’ll force us to listen to REM on CD or your MP3.
“Once at yours, you’ll crucify perfectly good steaks on the BBQ…”
Mmmm, steak.
“…while you force us to watch MTV, VH-1, ESPN or CNN on the TV, or the Simpsons on VCR or DVD.”
Hey, Carter and Teal’c are nodding. Traitors!
“After copious amounts of beer, you’ll take a shower, return to the sitting room in all your glory, wave your ‘assault weapon’ at us and demand to see my appendix scar.”
“Daniel!” Now, that’s a step too far. Sadly true, but still, he’s crossed the line. That only happened once. And how was I supposed to know that stuff from Chulak was strong enough to melt your insides, as well as every inhibition you’ve ever carefully nurtured. Great, now Carter’s giggling like a teenager. Take this kid!
“DJ, I'm sorry, but all these nasty abbreviations are SOP, Buddy. And I think you need a JD and coke, ASAP.”
Oh dear, his face just went a rather impressive shade of purple.
“Don’t even go there Jack, and FYI, sometimes you can be a real SOB.”
Wow, I think my eardrums have burst. No, no, his mouth isn't moving anymore. Is that really silence I hear? I think he might actually be done. He’s breathing kinda heavily, but at least he's returning to a more normal colour.
“Finished?”
“Uh, yeah, I think I am.”
“Feel better?”
“Actually… yes.”
“Well, campers, this whole conversation has been LOL, but I guess this probably isn’t the best time to tell you we’re leaving the USA on an AA 747, to go on a two week SG-1 vacation around the UK in an RV?”
”JACK!”
Uh oh! And, we’re running!
On to Part 2!!
“Jack.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“From any other man, I may have believed that, but you…”
He’s actually smiling. Hammond is grinning like a fiend.
“Just get out of my office.”
“Yes Sir!”
I salute the General with every ounce of respect I can muster. The man deserves it. He’s just signed off on a whole two week vacation for SG-1. Not only that, the man has agreed to my phenomenal idea of making it a group affair. After my well rehearsed and highly moving speech that Carter and Daniel never actually go anywhere when we get leave, and do, in fact, carry on working to the detriment of their own well-being, the big man agreed in a heartbeat. The big fat tear rolling down my cheek may have been overkill, but it worked didn’t it?
We’re gonna go on the perfect vacation. I’m taking the kids around England, in an RV. No naquada ridden doohikeys for Carter to play with, no enemies for Teal’c to damage, and plenty of goa’uld free history for Daniel to explore.
Now to find the kids and give them the good news. Oh, I know they’ll argue. Carter will moan about some experiment, Teal’c will growl out a threat to disembowel me, slowly, and Daniel will just pout. But, like any wayward child, I’ll simply ignore their pleas, disavow the unwanted behaviour, and drag them kicking and screaming out the door. I know what’s best for them. They’ll learn that eventually.
And we’re walking! I know they’ll all be holed up in Daniel’s office. Carter’s got some reactor in hers that’s taking up every available space, and Teal’c doesn’t have an office.
Ah, the elevator. Oh, that's just swell. Now I’m in a tightly enclosed space with some spotty adolescent Private staring at me. Yeah, I’m smiling, Bucko. Don’t get too used to it.
Ah, there’s Daniel’s door. Hell, now I’m whistling for Christ’s sake. Oh, this vacation is gonna be good.
Now for my grand entran… Well, crap!
What am I faced with in Daniel’s myriad of mysteries? Three strapping young SG-1 members, busy researching the latest planet? Nope. Three happy, smiling faces, ready for their next adventure? Definitely nope. All I get is a rather depressed looking archaeologist, a Major with a serious case of the scowls, and a Jaffa who looks like he needs to maim someone.
Okay, here goes. Be brave. “Hey, what’s wrong with you guys?”
“Everything, Jack.”
Okaay, Daniel’s obviously not a happy camper. He’s got his elbows resting on the table and his head in his hand. He looks thoroughly miserable.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Oh.” Well, what else can I say? Carter doesn’t look any better, and where was my salute, Major? Does it not say ‘Colonel’ anywhere on my uniform? Oh, I’m wearing civvies. D’oh!
Maybe now’s the time to go in for the kill. “Well, I have some good news.” I can’t help it. I’m grinning. Both Teal’c and Carter have broken their respective states of self pity long enough to look in my direction, and have at least had the decency to look slightly hopeful. Daniel, on the other hand, now has the deepest frown I’ve ever seen. If he carries on like that, it’ll become permanent.
Oh, he’s pointing his finger at me. That means he’s about to start talking at a million miles an hour and, most likely, get progressively louder.
”Jack, unless you can tell me exactly how to translate this text from P3X-445…”
Here he goes.
“… explain to me why I can’t wear my own underwear under my uniform, and exactly why the military, and life in general, has to be filled with annoying abbreviations, then GO AWAY!”
Did I say he gets progressively louder? Whenever I act like this, Daniel says I’m in my ‘I’m feeling crappy, so you’re going to suffer too’ mood. Well, I think he’s doing a mighty fine impression right now.
Hang on a minute. Did he just say what I think he just said?
“Abbreviations, Daniel?”
“Yes, Jack, abbreviations. I hate them, and they’re everywhere!”
Oh yeah, now he’s doing his uncanny impression of a child having a hissy fit. Maybe I can cheer him up a bit.
“Daniel, you’re a linguist. You love languages. Abbreviations are a part of language. Besides, there aren’t that many.”
Um… okaaay, perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to have said. Carter and Teal’c have taken a step back, and Daniel’s face is filled with what I can only classify as incredulous disgust. Oh dear, he’s standing up.
“Aren't that many, Jack? Aren't that many?”
Oops! He’s started to pace. I can see his cogs turning. They need greasing, buddy, I can hear ‘em squeak. Uh oh, he’s not just pointing now, he’s waving his finger at me. This could be bad. Very bad. I think he’s gonna explode. CALL THE HAZMAT TEAM!
“OK, Jack.”
Oh God, here he goes. Get Teal’c to read my eulogy, and I want to be cremated.
“We work for the USAF, where everything’s on the QT. I’m a multiple PHD, and some would even say a VIP and as such, you’re my CO.
“We wake up at 0500 and have a breakfast of OJ and SOS. I’ll check by PDA, where our ETA, past NORAD to the SGC is 0700. We’ll flash our ID, change into our BDUs and begin work on SG-1 with Teal’c and your 2IC with major PMT.”
“Hey!”
Phew, at least I’ve got Carter on my side.
"Who would look right at home on the cover of GQ."
Damn, he's good! Carter's gone all girly.
“We receive questionable INTEL from the bigwigs in Washington DC..."
Oh Jesus, he's not finished.
"...and then watch the MALP and the UAV before I perform endless research looking up URLs on my PC while Sam makes a computer model with CAD.
“We then get our ETD for our Special OP or S&R, or to find a ZPM, and despite your little ACL problem, the SFs load us up with ZATs, P90s, MP-5s and AMMO.”
“Daniel..”
“We then arrive on P3X – yadda, yadda, yadda, for me to make good PR with the locals who all look like ET.”
Okay, Daniel, I get it. You can stop now, buddy.
“We’ll then make camp…”
Oh Geez!
“…where we’ll have to endure yukky MRE’s that all taste of chicken.”
Yep, you see? I told ya. The decibels are going up. As well as his pitch actually. Only dogs will be able to hear him soon.
“I’ll then be trying to get you to see things from the locals POV so we don’t become AWOL or MIA, or worse, KIA or DOA.
“We’ll then make a run for the gate. You’ll get a chance to use all your C4, and I’ll dial the DHD, send our IDC using a GDO and arrive back at HQ hopefully without any of us needing CPR, the ER or the ICU!”
“Danny.” Please, someone help! He’s now prodding me every time he utters one of his vexing abbreviations. How am I going to explain these bruises to Janet?
“We’re then shut in ISO-1 where our lovely CMO subjects us to a CT-scan, a PET-scan, a CAT-scan, an MRI, hooks us up to an IV, STAT, and we’re tested endlessly for STDs and any anomalies in our DNA.”
You know, that rock behind Daniel’s right ear has a really interesting shape. Looks kinda like a donut.
“Then we’ll get interrogated by the IOA, the NID, the CIA and in the past, the FBI and the ATF, before we can escape from the mountain for some well earned R&R.”
I wonder if he’d notice if I took it and put it in my kitchen. My very own donut rock. Cool!
“We’ll speed past the MPs back to your house in your Ford F350 monster truck where you’ll force us to listen to REM on CD or your MP3.
“Once at yours, you’ll crucify perfectly good steaks on the BBQ…”
Mmmm, steak.
“…while you force us to watch MTV, VH-1, ESPN or CNN on the TV, or the Simpsons on VCR or DVD.”
Hey, Carter and Teal’c are nodding. Traitors!
“After copious amounts of beer, you’ll take a shower, return to the sitting room in all your glory, wave your ‘assault weapon’ at us and demand to see my appendix scar.”
“Daniel!” Now, that’s a step too far. Sadly true, but still, he’s crossed the line. That only happened once. And how was I supposed to know that stuff from Chulak was strong enough to melt your insides, as well as every inhibition you’ve ever carefully nurtured. Great, now Carter’s giggling like a teenager. Take this kid!
“DJ, I'm sorry, but all these nasty abbreviations are SOP, Buddy. And I think you need a JD and coke, ASAP.”
Oh dear, his face just went a rather impressive shade of purple.
“Don’t even go there Jack, and FYI, sometimes you can be a real SOB.”
Wow, I think my eardrums have burst. No, no, his mouth isn't moving anymore. Is that really silence I hear? I think he might actually be done. He’s breathing kinda heavily, but at least he's returning to a more normal colour.
“Finished?”
“Uh, yeah, I think I am.”
“Feel better?”
“Actually… yes.”
“Well, campers, this whole conversation has been LOL, but I guess this probably isn’t the best time to tell you we’re leaving the USA on an AA 747, to go on a two week SG-1 vacation around the UK in an RV?”
”JACK!”
Uh oh! And, we’re running!
On to Part 2!!