Chapter #1 ‘Left Until Tomorrow’

ON

General Bond stood atop the mountain that his complex was built beneath.

Cup in hand, uniform donned and aviator shades were being worn - contented, he exhaled, taking in the view.

Looking out at the vista before him, he took a sip of his hot tea. The great blue sky, curving with the clear horizon as it met the dusky grey and beige plato, from which the winding solitary road lead to the doorway to the deep.

For the soldiers both below him and beneath him, today was a day just like any other. Today was a day that the IOA complained about their concerns for funding, or personnel levels being too high. Today was a day that that homeworld command would order unnecessary deployments. Today was a day that had his joint-chief colleagues dissenting. Today was just 24 for hours, but for this one - for this one, he’d been brain-clear and just drinking a simple cup of coffee on top of a mountain he’d travelled too for the better part of his career... not in time but in honour.

Lifting his arm up to take another sip, he felt the cold ceramic rim touch his lip, smelt only coffee residue and tasted cold fluid. “You’d better get on with it then, General!” He said to himself, strained slight at the end caused by a less obvious stretch. Bond tilted his head to each side and took off his shades, the sunlight instantly overcame his sight for a moment until he adjusted, he folded each arm of his glasses and slid them into his trouser pocket, bringing out a small, silver tube around 3 inches long and clicked the button atop of it.

Once the flash of light from the beam field had gone as away as his vista, Bond slat his mug on his desktop and sat at his mahogany desk, at the edge of his blue leather chair. Muscle memory threw on his sleek, black reading glasses and his gazed down at it, the white sheet of paper that he’d loathed the inevitable appearance of, it just needed his signature. He signed. Almost as if it were the same action of his hands, the A4 sheet found itself tri-folded and enveloped with seal, thrown into a drawer of fear to commit and that was it. The glasses were off.

“Screw it.” He muttered to his empty room and walked across it to the door most direct to his briefing room. He’d had a new table made for the base from a friend, but with his back to it he look through the glass partition down into the Gateroom, only really paying attention to the semi-reflection of an old man in uniform looking back at him.

OFF

OOC: setting the stage for the start, where are you? What’re you doing?

ON:

Dr. Grace Wyatt was walking around her infirmary setting up her tasks for the day alongside the nurses and other doctor on duty today. She had quite an early start so there was a long stretch of the day still in front of her.

Dressed in professional civilian clothing finished with her doctors’ coat, it seemed as if it was an automatic process in the way she moved and gathered the relevant equipment, in fact it was. Grace had been the chief medical officer of Stargate Command for so long it seemed like a lifetime ago she started. Her military career ended upon her retirement from the United States Air Force and yet she chose to stay on because of numerous reasons.

It was often assumed when she announced her retirement from the USAF, she would leave Stargate Command. Maybe one day she might but even that thought was one that could be dwelled upon another time.

With a slight stretch she considered the paperwork that has been handed to her before sighing and pull out her reading glasses. A quick sweep across the document showed to simple task, Grace pulled out a pen from her white doctor’s jacket signing it before handing it back over to the relevant nurse.

Everyday tasks such as this has become instinct as if engrained in her very being and yet everyday, she still could be surprised. The one thing Grace Wyatt loved was the ability to be awed by the environment she worked in even after all this time.

Bringing herself back to the moment, Grace pulled off her glasses as she walked into her office placing them on the desk, before grabbing her now cold cup of coffee but neither the less she did drink it. Being a medical professional, one did get used to drinking cold coffee on the go and it had become a running joke amongst staff of her addiction to the stuff. It was all in light-hearted jest. With a deep sigh, she managed to walk back into the main infirmary. “Right Andrea! What is on the list today?” She spoke to one of the nurses.

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ON:

Lt. Colonel Jennifer Wyatt or Jen as her nearest and dearest called her when she was behaving. This Colonel was currently making her round of the base with her trusted side arm attached to her leg. As head of security her job was to ensure that the base was secure and the security teams where always on standby. Wyatt often liked to pop up randomly to make sure the team was not sleeping on the job.

The handover for her shift was only about an hour or so ago and nothing remarkable had happened. Although, within this base that was a jinx waiting to happen.

Jen was reflecting on how many times she had jinxed her own self, to the point she had nearly lost her career – of course that was due to her temper issues. But that had changed or rather it was channelled into something useful. Like shooting ranges and the occasional rescue mission from someone that had fallen down a hole off world.

It was interesting the fact the USAF actually cared about her career when the Army had been ready to discharge her effectively ending a lifetime of service. “I look better in blue anyway.” Jen muttered to herself with a slight smirk on her lip.

Yup, life was indeed good for Wyatt and surely the only way was up. Well, if she was an overthinker that was true, because she was hidden deep with the mountain that housed Stargate Command and she needed to take a lift to get out. Once again, Jen chuckled at her own inner thought pattern, she did thing herself hilarious and quite sarcastic.

And so, she turned the next corner Lt. Colonel Wyatt continued to reflex while walking through her rounds.

OFF:

ON:

Col.Cameron MacGregor has awoken from a deep sleep.

Vision slightly blurry, he was still slightly jet-lagged from the trip back from the UK. However, back in a familiar setting.

After getting out of bed and looking at the clock, he realised that it was 0730. Still fairly early in the morning, but early mornings weren't an unusual thing. After eating a couple of slices of toast and taking numerous sips of tea from his mug, he threw on his "Working Blues", grabbed his wallet, ID badge, phone, peaked-cap and keys and left the apartment, ensuring that he slammed the door ever so slightly to ensure that the lock out engage properly.

The drive over to SGC wasn't an unfamiliar one. What was unfamiliar was the change in uniform. After a successful exchange program between the UK MOD and the DoD, Cameron was invited to transfer to the USAF, even better yet, to become SGC's new Executive Officer. This was a massive honour as he held Gen.Bond in the highest of regards and from day one, was always looking up to him.

Pulling up to the perimeter gate of "Cheyenne Mountain Complex", he had to remember to show his USAF ID and not his RAF MOD90 ID. This was something that he was just going to have to get used to.

As he drove into the tunnel, he could smell the rock all around him. It had a real granite smell to it. Something that reminded him of home back on the east coast of Scotland.

As he parked, a squad of airman marched passed and presented an "Eyes Right". Remembering that he was an officer, he threw up a sharp, smart salute to the passing squad and proceeded towards the elevator which would take him into the depths of the mountain. During the trip down the mountain, he started to think of all of the people that had been carried by this very elevator over the last thirty years that the SGC had been based here.

OFF:

On

Corporal Carter was relatively new to both the United States Military and Stargate Command, literally the Stargate as a whole to be honest.

All he knew was that he joined the army fresh out of college and once he’d proved himself by stepping up the ladder a tad, they sent him to Colorado (of all places) and he’s suddenly sent to planets. No, really. The worst part was the secret-keeping, what could he say he was doing in an Air Force base in Colorado? The line had always been deep space telemetry but if there was one thing Don was happy to no nothing about, it was deep space bloody radars. His boyfriend was still back in San Francisco and the pair had no intention of leaving their home so he was basically living on-base - who doesn’t love concrete walls, blistering sun and deafening blows of pilots training in the nearby academy. No thanks.

Right now, Don was sat in his concrete coffin - sorry, quarters, reading a book on the past presidents of the US; feet up, shoes off fatigues loose and a cold glass of water on his bedside table.

No missions scheduled for the moment and no need to rush anywhere - unless it was for sushi, oh how he missed eating good sushi.

Off

ON

Bond had been stood staring down into the empty Gateroom for a while too long now, he snapped his mind from the old man before him with an actual physical shake of the head and turned about, now facing his new table.

The table was ordered by the US Military from a local friend who, when he found out who the base commander was, actually gifted it to the military and waived his fees. This then led to the table getting caught up in a tug of war from various places all requisitioning their own conference tables. After 5 months, he pulled rank. The long black glass computerised table was gone and the new long red oak table was in its place. The general couldn’t help but catch attention to the indents of the old table feet that still remained in the carpet. The only reminder of a base asset used for years, now gone.

His head shook again and he marched back across this empty room, into the next, behind his desk, threw open the offending drawer and tossed the small white envelope, complete with contents, into the trash can beside him. The drawer was slammed shut by his right hand and his cold, empty and as yet unwashed coffee mug fell from the only bit of perch it found when it was thrown into its place earlier.

His head bowed as if the noise of the fall had broken his heart. “What are you doing you fool?” He spoke softly under his breath, the words were only for his own mind, to still the grief the fallen mug brought, but he said them aloud all the same.

A few small, soft steps took the man to the now handle-less white mug lying on the floor. Bond gave a gasp almost and put his hand on the table side to lean down and collect the remains but before he lowered himself a gentle knock echoed into his room, lifting his head instantly to its direction found a small man, dressed in some kind of tweed suit holding a file; his eyebrows lifted way above his glasses in anticipation.

Bond obviously recognised the man, “Chandler you son of a gun! It’s that time already?!” In jest, Bond greeted him and straightened himself upright, brushing his hand down his tie. “Let’s get her done!” He spoke loudly in his cheery tone, gesturing the man from the office and into the briefing room for their meeting.

OFF

ON:

Grace continued to make her relevant rounds considering the smaller tasks that were required in the infirmary knowing this routine very well. Dr. Wyatt could not regret building the infirmary in a way that was effective – she always knew that she had a great team that could be called upon in such a short notice. Heck, in the past that is what would happen when she was indeed a general and required to play that role.

Simply as a civilian, Wyatt enjoyed the job she trained to and can to what she had to do without being called away at any time. There was not much heaviness on her shoulders as there used to be.

“Right, now I am out of coffee… there had better be a fresh pot on.” Muttering to herself, but a nurse smirked and pointed to the far corner. “Careful before you say anything.” Pointing her pen at the nurse with a grin on her face before pouring a fresh cup.

It was difficult to understand why she was thinking about her journey within Stargate Command. There was a significant number of ups and down, but not one regret. Of course, when she had been given the job as CMO as a Major she had been frightened of the things she did not know. Grace had been down a very long wrong but now she is was a very good place and it got her through some very difficult situation.

Once her granddaughter being curious about her gran had asked if she was happy and her own response it was impossible not to be unhappy and at the moment, she had gone back to the fake tea party. There had been nothing left to say in that statement.

Considering the past, Grace moved through the motions of setting up her next station. A young officer was due a bandage changes for injuries that were caused by him not being attention to the science team. Young officers think they know best until they don’t – oh how it did make Grace laugh; behind closed doors of course since she was a professional.

OFF:

ON:

Practically skipping around the corner Lt. Colonel Wyatt, she had finished the last of her round for now which could only mean one thing… a late breakfast. As much as the breakfast on base was questionable most of the time, it meant that she did not have to cook which suited Jen just fine.

“Jenkins!” Jen shouted at one of her security officers. “I am going to get some grub, don’t disturb me on the pain of getting your six kicked in the next sparing sessions.” Smirking slightly. “Unless it is an emergency, then it will just be a slight punch.”

Not waiting around to see the young soldier’s reaction, she began to make her way to the place where she could face plant the food and maybe have a breather. But, the SGC being predictably unpredictable that was the way it was – it was often an uphill climb and she could not win.

Mere minutes did pass, and Wyatt had chosen her food, poured a bad coffee and sat down. Out of the corner of her eye she saw another member of the security team approach. Holding up a hand to stop them before they spoke, she uttered “On the pain of death your interruption had better be an emergency and not asking about your station for the shift.” Before lifting her eyes to stare at the officer before they ran off.

“Thought so… idiot.” Simply muttering as she dug into her feed. Jennifer hated stupid questions from her security team. They should be able to think without her constant input, they should be able to use common sense. Maybe she needed to speak with the General and hash out about him not recruiting idiots to her team.

Oh, how she missed Appleton and Shaw, they were not idiots and made her job easier, not harder. They joy that was the military and postings changing a successful team dynamic quickly. The new guys needed to learn her way and quickly or they would be assigned to the boring duties the next time she did the lists.

OFF:

ON

Sat at his new conference table, Bond laughed at joke made by Mr Chandler. He'd heard it every time the man visited the base, but somehow it was still funny - either that or he was beginning to believe his own lie.

He'd been doing this job for a while now, so it didn't take more than a few seconds to spot the key details at various locations in the document he was flicking through before lifting his head with a furrowed brow of confusion and replying to Mr Chandler, "Tim, it says an offworld mission is requested? You know we're not sending teams out at the whim of the IOA, right? I thought I made myself clear on that one."

Chandler replied to the Generals agitated tone with a panicking attempt at calm, when someone has been caught but tried to tell you that you misunderstood; "General, it's not like that! Come on, just hear us out and I think you'll like to hear what we've got to say." Chandler slid the manila folder back across the table to the passenger at the head of the table.

Receiving it, Bond opened it again, nothing more was worth reading - so what did he have to hear? "You have 5 minutes before I walk back through that door and don't see you until next week, Tim"

Tim Chandler responded really rather quickly, "C3T-459. It's been flagged four times by out address scouting programme and it's telling us that there's something damned well big there," Chandler rose to his feet, pointing down and the file in front of him - almost as if he was an excited teenager asking his parents to a kegger. "If we don't go, we'll never know - but what about 'superguns' Rocky? Whatever happened to them?" Superguns was said with miming rabbit ears and this old mans eyes rolled.

"Tim, if I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand damned times. Never. Going. To happen." Bond stood up, sliding the file back across the table to where Chandler once sat. In stepping between his tall black chair, his hand silently shooed the man's nonsense away, and as he approached his office door yelled, "next week Timothy!"

With the back of his aching right foot he hooked the door and flung it to close. His demeanour changed as he looked down at the dirty, broken mug still lying on the floor. A soft, sad expression came over his face - and he stepped over it.

Moving to perch himself in his leather chair, he pulled it to roll to his desk. The envelope was lifted out of the trash can and returned to the top right drawer.

OFF

On

Don jerked awake.

"The fff?" He let out slowly, confused and looking around the small, grey, room.

He was not a dreamer, it just didn't happen, but since being here it was like horror night at the theatre every night. The man needed to learn how not to nap, but his evening sleeps weren't that way inclined, but boy oh boy were his regular naps coming to scare the hell out of it.

"Screw it," he said before tossing the book of presidents he spooned while asleep and slipping his sock-covered feet into his open-laced black combat boots. Standing up, he jiggled himself a bout a bit to recalibrate - Oscar used to always laugh at him doing it post-sleep, but he genuinely felt if helped. His hand ran over his hair, putting everything into it's nearest best place and he left the room for food.

Now, this wasn't the first time he'd been to the mess hall for food, granted, but if it could be helped then it most certainly was going to be. Don must've gotten to know the local eateries with a fine knowledge, but it wasn't worth the trek this time. His shift started in an hour so it was never going to happen.

What he would said in favour of the Air Force, though, was that they did give him quarters nearest the elevator! Two right turns and he managed to catch the open doors to ascend. He hummed a catchy TV theme and the doors reopened... He just had to make the walk - which he did, quite quickly - straight over to the double doors ahead.

Don was in - but when they don't have sushi, what do you really feel like eating?

He'd just stand, blocking the doors until he decided.

Off

ON:

MacGregor road the elevator all the way down to the SGC in solitude.

As the elevator descended, he could feel his phone vibrate in his trouser pocket. As he pulled it out, he could see that it was a text message from a friend back in the UK. He knew that he wouldn't have long before he would loose signal so be quickly tapped a message out and pressed send. ~Got it!~.

MacGregor glanced up and saw that he was at his "stop". As he exited the elevator, he could hear the usual sounds of the SGC. From the low electrical hum to electronics in the corridors, to people walking and talking, he felt that he was back at home. He instantly threw a hard right and headed towards his private quarters. Rank in all fairness did come with privilege, and most of the time, this is where he lived, but every once in a while, he enjoyed going back to his 'home'.

As he walked further along the corridors, he caught a glance of the control room. Instead of continuing straight on, he decided to take a detour though the control room and up the stairs into the briefing room. As he walked up, his eyes adjusted to the light from the darkened control room into the bright and warm briefing room. As he reached the peak of the stairs, he caught a glance of Gen.Bond sitting at his desk. Being the good XO he was, he decided to pour the general a cup of coffee from one of the mugs and decanters at the side of the briefing room, and walked across to the Generals door. Confidently, he gave two knocks and awaited to be granted entry.

OFF:

TAG_BOND_ANYONE

ON:

Once more time passed to quickly for this Lt. Colonel and once again, she was required back on duty. Maybe she could convince the General to let her hide and enjoy her breaks in peace. Of course, that would not happen, Wyatt always had to be contactable just in case there was a security issue. Selfish people who did try and breech something they were not authorised to access gave her a headache.

Downing the last of her hot drink, it was over too fast so Jen had tried to make each moment last for as long as she can.

Then a smirk appeared on her face. Trying to remember who due assessment of hand to hand combat, it was time to get some of her stress out as well as anger. Rather than address part of the security on radio, Lt. Colonel Wyatt was just going to appear and given them very little time to make up and excuse to back out.

Now this was one of the perks of the job. This officer took every chance she could to use it.

The security team always needed to be on their best, even against the chief of security. Jennifer had not gotten to this point in her career being a pretty face. It was about tactics and anticipating any situation.

Which happened to include sparring sessions as part of the training and this being an essential part of the job. It kept the team in place and stopped the comments of the newest members about her being female and their boss.

Once it was shown why she was the boss and not them. It shut them up and allowed them to fall into line. This was going to be fun.

However, this idea was stopped for the moment. "You know Carter, blocking the doorway isn't advisable." Pausing for a moment smirking. "There could be an emergency drill, you get trampled... or face an Lt. Colonel Wyatt that happens to be ex. Army and would call you out" Chucking to herself.

OFF:

Tag_CARTER

ON:


There were some days where Grace was not able to grab a short break. However, today was not one of those days. Ensuring that everyone within the team was happy, Dr. Wyatt made a path towards her office for of course, yet another coffee but this one she would be able to enjoy.

Glancing at her watch, Grace was considering a trip up to the top of the base and enjoy the views that were offered. Quickly, that idea was dismissed as it would simply cut into the precious time she had before her presence was required in the infirmary.

However, the office door was open so if an emergency or a situation required her attention, she was fully aware straight away.

It was a slow start to the shift within the Stargate Command infirmary, although Grace would never say that out loud because it would be a jinx and not something this base needed was a jinx. More than anything, she did not wish it on anyone; to have an easy life on shift was all that this doctor could hope for herself and the team.

Grace always had a method to her madness in the way to infirmary was run. She ensured that her team either military or civilian were very aware they could pull rank on any person if it was felt a medical emergency. Now that often raised some eyebrows on the rare occasions rank was pulled by the medical staff, but they were not afraid to use it which made her proud.

There have always been particular ways the infirmary staff had been trained under Grace’s careful watch. The rare time she was required off-world, she wanted ot make sure that her infirmary was still standing when she got back.

Every member of staff was always ready for the unpredictable. It came with the job.

OFF:

ON

Bond was sat at his desk still. Feeling trapped between the wounded mug on the floor at one entrance, and the letter in the drawer to his right.

He’d since been sat, getting some admin done to keep the base in order. A few transfers; in, as well as out. Air duct replacements on the Gateroom level required him to sign before they could work near sensitive centres of the base, and of course signing off on trivial matters such as menus for the mess hall, colour resprays for the guide lines on ground, build changes to make the base fully LED (somehow this was still not being done?!) and so on.

Bond stood to his feet and walked to the door to his right. Where would he go? There were very few places on the base he was actually required to be, even those didn’t need him unless they called crying.

He turned back for his chair with purpose he sat down and lifted the receiver for his telephone.

“Doctor Wyatt, Infirmary, please” Bond requested with a strong, clear voice.

This woman was his rock, his light when he needed one, his confidence when he wavered and his raison detre she also happened to be his best friend, and his wife.

The phone rang.

The door knocked.

Bond held the phone away from his head and looked at it, he looked across the room to the door to his left the opened to the briefing room. Perplexed at the timing, he slammed down the handset and cleared his voice.

“Come!”

OFF

TAG_MAC

On
~You don’t even like the pizza here though, but I guess if that’s all that looks good, but who cares what it looks like? It’s disgusting. What about a fruit snack or something? Please. Fruit? For lunch? Nah. Don’t think so. They have hash browns! Couple slices of buttered bread and boom! Just like you used to sneak down when Oscar slept - right, so agreed? Hash br-~

"You know Carter, blocking the doorway isn't advisable."

Don snapped out of his glazed eyes that had him in deep food considering thought and he blinked his eyes.

Corporal Carter slid his feet together, straightened his posture, corrected his forward shoulders and sent his right hand the long way up to fall beside his right brow in a salute. Looking dead ahead and no longer at the officer, he heard them speak again.

"There could be an emergency drill, you get trampled... or face an Lt. Colonel Wyatt that happens to be ex. Army and would call you out" she said.

A lieutenant colonel - was he ASKING for trouble right now? He was looking for food and ending up just eating his own embarrassment. “Yes, ma’am! Apologies ma’am! I’ll be careful in future, Colonel.” He spoke clearly, didn’t quiver and showed strength and confidence - even in a situation where he was a complete and utter idiot. This one should have Oscar howling down the phone, later. Great.

Off

Tag-Jen