They could not do this! They just couldn't! Daniel Jackson flapped the sheet of paper in his hands in an extreme state of agitation as he stalked through the corridors of the SGC.
The airman he passed ignored him; they were by now used to the strange behaviors of various scientists. That suited Daniel just fine. With a singularity of purpose he rounded the corner, rapped sharply once on the door of Colonel Jack O'Neill's office, and pushed open the door without waiting for an invitation.
"Jack - Ow!!" He jumped back, rubbing at his cheek. The white object that struck him tumbled into the wastebasket placed strategically next to the door. He picked it up - it was an intricately folded paper airplane.
"Yeah - bull's-eye! Hey, Danny," Jack O'Neill's voice was full of boyish exuberance. He was leaning back in his chair, feet up on his steel desk. His feet spread mounds of paper out, and various folded sheets were strewn about the floor.
Daniel waded through the wreckage and held out the paper that had struck him. "Jack - what is this?"
"A MiG 20," Jack answered. "Sweet, huh? A work of art."
"I think I have a paper cut." Daniel touched his cheek; his finger came away with a drop of blood. He sighed and unfolded the MiG 20, smoothing it out flat. He saw the seal of the US Air Force, and the boldfaced word "Memorandum".
"So this is what you've been doing with all those memos you've been obsessed with getting?"
"It's taken quite awhile to get them right," Jack said defensively. "I need all the memos I can get. I'm still having a lot of problems with the F14." Frowning, he picked up another plane and threw it. It promptly performed a nosedive over the edge of the desk joining the others on the floor. "See? Damn."
Daniel took a deep breath. "Uh, Jack? Are you actually reading any of these before creating your.artwork?"
Jack shrugged. "Yeah, there was something about commissary hours, yadda, yadda.. I never did get the one about flying MALPs."
Daniel took another deep breath, willing himself to be patient. He looked at the dissembled MiG 20. It bore a definite resemblance to the paper he'd almost forgotten he held crumpled in his other hand. He took a closer look. Yup - one and the same. He thrust one of them toward Jack. "Read."
An eyebrow lifted. "Okay.." Jack took the memo and scanned it. "To: all staff members of the Stargate Command. From: Sergeant Peter Walters, Head Custodian, Cosigned Major General George Hammond. During the recent meeting of the Custodial Staff, the enormous amount of spillage on the carpeted areas and wooden furniture in the SGC was discussed. It was agreed that in certain program locations, there has been greater spillage than in others - most specifically, the SGC Team Briefing Room. An outside cleaning company has had to be hired on several recent occasions to repair the damage done to the décor in the briefing room by spillage of coffee and other beverages from opened containers. The costs of hiring such a company while maintaining base
security are very high. A portion of the SGC budget was allocated toward these expenses however it has run out with the fiscal year less than half over. Therefore we have no choice but to implement the following, effective immediately: there will be no food or beverages allowed in the briefing room, and other wooded or carpeted areas of the SGC until the start of the next fiscal year, and in years thereafter anytime the budget has been exhausted.."
Jack stopped and drew a deep breath. "Daniel?" He rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "What does this *mean*?"
"It means," Daniel replied solemnly, "no more coffee in the briefing room."
"What??" Jack's eyes widened, one eyebrow starting to twitch. His feet flew off the desk and hit the floor with a loud thunk of combat boots. "They can't do that!"
"Apparently they have." Now that Jack was getting agitated, Daniel found it easier to be calm. "It was signed by General Hammond."
"We'll see about that!" Jack jumped to his feet and stalked to the door, kicking aside crashed planes and waving the memo in his hand. Daniel marched behind him down the hall, waving his own memo. The airmen who had ignored Daniel stepped back from O'Neill's thunderous face.
"Hey, sir, Daniel." Major Carter and Teal'c were coming down the hall toward them. "We were just heading to the commissary for some coffee.." Sam's voice faded as she saw the look on Daniel and Jack's faces. "Um. what's going on? What happened to your cheek, Daniel?"
"That did," Daniel answered as O'Neill thrust the memo toward them.
"Enjoy your coffee," O'Neill said darkly. "It might be your last."
Teal'c took it. "It appears to be a memo," he said. "That has been folded many times."
Sam reached over his arm and lifted the corner studying the folds. "MiG 20? Nice job, sir!"
Jack shrugged modestly. "Thanks."
Daniel cleared his throat impatiently. "Read it."
They complied. Sam jerked her head up quickly. "What??"
"Is this a 'joke', O'Neill?" Teal'c asked.
"No," Jack said firmly. "It's not."
"I see. In that case should we not immediately seek audience with General Hammond?"
"Our thoughts exactly."
Teal'c and Sam fell into line behind Jack and Daniel, and all four marched to General Hammond's office, across from the threatened briefing room.
O'Neill rapped sharply once on the door, and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.
General Hammond looked up from the piles of paper on his desk. At the sight of SG1 parading in front of his desk, he put down his pen and steepled his hands in front of him. "Colonel, Major, Doctor, Teal'c. What can I do for you?"
Jack stepped forward and offered the memo. Hammond took it, and examined the folds. "Was this supposed to be a-"?
"MiG 20, yes sir. I'm actually quite proud of it.." Jack received a sharp nudge from Daniel. "But that's not really the point, sir."
"No, I didn't think so. Looks like a good job though, son." Hammond scanned the document, eyes widening. "What??"
"That's what we said, sir," Jack told him.
"You appear to have signed it, General Hammond," Teal'c added.
Hammond's eyes widened further. "I.. sign lots of things," he muttered. "If I read every piece of paper they put in front of me." He picked up the black internal base phone on his desk and dialed a number. "This is General Hammond. I want Sgt Walters in my office immediately!"
He put down the phone. "He'll be putting out another memo revoking this memo immediately."
"Thank you, sir," SG1 chorused, all smiling widely.
"You're welcome." Hammond ushered them out of his office with a wave.
In the hallway, Jack slid his hands into his pockets with a satisfied smile. "So - coffee anyone?"
"Sure," they all answered.
"Carter," he said, falling into step beside her. "When that memo comes out, I could use your help. I'm having some technical difficulties with an F14.."
THE END
© February 16, 2001 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.
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