In the Deep End
By
Denise

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Dear Laura,

Let me tell you about my first day.

First of all, I'm working 20 plus stories underground. I passed through enough checkpoints staffed with armed guards to make me hope the commissary is a good one, cause it's literally going to take an act of congress for me to get a pizza delivered.

I arrived all gussied up in my dress blues, ready to make a good impression on the general. Instead I walked into a war zone. Or, more accurately, the after math of one.

Medics rushed past me wheeling gurneys bearing shrouded figures. I wonder vaguely if there's been some accident as I follow their path to a large room. What we're now calling the gateroom. That's where we keep the Stargate if you haven't already figured that part out.

Anyway, I walked into the room, sidestepping the various armed guards and puddles of blood and I don't want to know what else on the floor. The general stood out admidst the chaos like a lighthouse on the coast.

I think I'd know he was a general even out of uniform. Just like General Kaiser, once they pin that first set of stars on your shoulder it changes a man…or woman. It gives them an innate aura of authority.

I walked up to him and present myself in a way that would have made my drill Sergeant proud. "Master Sergeant Walter Davis reporting for duty sir," I said, snapping off a crisp salute.

He just stared at me, frowning a bit. "Davis?" he asked, absentmindedly returning my salute. He thought for another minute, oblivious to the barely organized turmoil going on around us. Recognition dawned on his face. "Kaiser sent you?" he asked, his voice slightly tinged with a Midwestern twang.

What's he like? You're asking yourself. Well...he's bald. Bald and a little over weight. Sorta reminds me of the actor who played Scully's dad on X-files.

Anyway, I replied 'Yes sir,' as I handed him my orders. He took the papers from me, but didn't even look at them.

"You've been briefed?" he asked me, gesturing for me to follow him as we leave the grisly scene and climb a short flight of steps into a room that had been hidden behind a large, gray steel, blast door.

"Yes sir."

"Three men survived the first Abydos mission. I want them here," he ordered in a cold, determined voice. In an instant I know I don't ever want this man mad at me. There was 100% pure anger glittering in his eyes.

After giving me this duty, he turned and stomped up the circular metal staircase, his steps echoing in the empty room, leaving me alone in this place surrounded by shrouded computers and blank monitors.

So much for a warm welcome.

Here I was, basically buried alive, all alone in this room surrounded by equipment I don't know, given the task of finding three men who could literally be anywhere in the world. Oh, and did I mention people died down here?

Talk about being thrown in the deep end.

Let me tell you Laura, there was a minute when I wanted nothing more than to jump back in the elevator, to heck with doing Kaiser a favor, and see if I could worm my way back onto my transport plane.

Instead I dug around until I found a phone that worked, pulled out the folder and started calling people.

Six hours and one sore ear later I had all three men located and was supervising the work crews that were turning things on and getting the control room back to full operational status. Though to be honest, I'm still not quite sure what half the machines do.

During a lull I found the general's office and knocked on the door. I entered the room and saw him unloading a small box of belongings. It seemed sorta odd to me for a man to be surrounding himself with personal stuff when he was supposed to be moving things out of the facility. But I learned a long time ago to never question a general.

"Sir, I located Kawalski and Ferretti. They're on their way and should be here by 1700."

"And O'Neill?" He asked me, carefully placing a statue of an eagle on the oak bookshelf behind his desk.

"Sir. He lives right here in Colorado Springs. I've been calling and leaving messages…" Six messages to be exact.

"But?"

"Sir. He hasn't returned any of them. Maybe he's out of town."

He snorted. "Very well. I'll deal with O'Neill later." He paused a second. "Have you been studying the ops manuals?"

"Sir?" I asked him, not really sure where he was going with this. Had I done something wrong already?

"Davis. Everyone involved with the project is gone. And considering the large number of civilians involved the first time, they're not going to be recalled. Right now there isn't a single person on this base who can run that thing," he said, motioning through his window towards the Stargate just barely visible through the briefing room window.
"Have you studied enough to be able to operate the gate?"

I thought for a minute. Sure I knew how to work it IN THEORY… Then again, hundreds of officers know how to launch a nuclear missile IN THEORY. None of them have ever done it.

"I think so sir. Though to be honest, I concentrated more on shutting things down than reactivating them," I admitted, wondering just what I've gotten myself into.

"That's understandable. I expected to be overseeing the distribution of equipment and personnel not having to deal with a hostile alien attacking us and having to notify next of kin." He motioned towards the five folders sitting in stark contrast to the black blotter on his desk.

"Yes sir." What else could I say? Looked like he'd been thrown into the deep end too.

"Bone up Sergeant. From all indications we will be opening the gate again. And this time it will be to 'resolve the issue'," he said, the tone of his voice telling me his 'resolution' was going to be a fairly permanent one. "I don't want that resolution sitting on the ramp because the military can't duplicate the work of some snot nosed civilians."

So…I spent the next eight hours studying the notes and the computers, trying to make sure I knew exactly what I was doing.

Did you know that most of those symbols we work with are constellations? They say the gates are thousands and thousands of years old, so it makes sense. The stars are the one thing that isn't going to change much over the millennia.

We got Kawalski and Ferretti here pretty easily. Colonel O'Neill was being…difficult. So General Hammond sent Major Samuels to go fetch him. Something Samuels wasn't too crazy about doing. I think he thought it was beneath him or something. And I think that's exactly why Hammond sent him to do it.

Turns out Samuels practically ran the place in the months between West's departure and Hammond's arrival. I think he got used to being the top dog and didn't want to go back to being 2IC.

I've watched how he acts. Through a dozen gestures and words I've seen him challenge the old man. It's going to be interesting to see how General Hammond reacts. Will he accept the challenge and knock Samuels back into his place or is he just too tired, too close to retirement to fight?

I hope it's the former. This will be the longest six months in history if I have to spend it guarding my back from THAT man. You ever worked with a slime ball? Slicked back hair, oily demeanor that suggests they'll just slide out of your grasp the first time you try to pin any responsibility on them? That's Major Samuels. I'll bet he's done so much butt kissing in his career his lips are set on permanent pucker.

Where was I?…Oh yeah. We managed to get O'Neill here and after a little...discussion, I opened the gate for the first time. I gotta tell you, every time a chevron lit up I was crossing my fingers. And when the seventh one lit up and the gate opened…I was…well relieved seems inadequate but, I was incredibly relieved. Whatta you know? I did it right. I opened the gate and Colonel O'Neill sent an interplanetary message.

And a couple of days later I sent people through. Let me tell you, that was something. Watching those people walk up that ramp and step through that shimmering blue surface…then the wormhole snapped shut and they were gone. Just gone. To another planet.

Soon afterwards I took a break outside and found myself looking up at the stars. They were out there. I opened the wormhole that sent people to another planet. I wonder if this sense of wonder, this feeling of amazement is what those engineers at NASA felt in 1969 when they went outside, looked at the moon and realized their efforts put someone there?

This is so cool.

Walter paused and re-read what he'd written. He couldn't send this. Laura would never believe him. And the whole letter violated more regulations on national security than he cared to think about.

He carefully tore the sheet off the pad, folded it up and tucked it away. Maybe if the project ever got declassified he could send it. Or save it for when he was writing his memoirs. Or for proof in his old age that his memories were real and it really happened.

He looked at the blank sheet in front of him and tried to come up with a way to relate what he was doing to his girlfriend without violating national security and getting himself court-martialed.

He shifted his gaze and looked up at the item sitting on top of his computer monitor. He smiled. No body had seemed to want it so he'd adopted it. It had no real value but was important to him. It was the first thing he'd ever sent through the Stargate. It went to and returned from another planet. All the tech, all the specialized equipment they seemed to have at their disposal and they'd used this. He ran his fingers over the battered Kleenex box with 'thanks send more' scrawled on the side.

He looked out the window at the dormant gate, the dozen armed Marines watching the techs installing the iris. He hoped O'Neill found and brought back Dr. Jackson. He really wanted to meet the guy.

~fin~

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