Future Prospects - gen fic (Hammond, Jack)
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ankhTITLE: Future Prospects
AUTHOR: Ankh
ARCHIVED: http://bunnyfic.com/Ankh/Future_prospects.htm
CATEGORY: vignette; character musing
SPOILERS: season 2 episode '1969'
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: General Hammond reflects on past and future following SG1's time travel experience
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..
Date: Nov 1999
General Hammond settled back in his chair, ignoring the cup of coffee cooling on his desk. The light from the desk lamp provided little illumination but it was preferable to the harshness of the main light and, right now, he needed the shadows, just as he needed the relative peace to be found at 2 am. He had a lot to think about.
1969. Not a particularly good year for him personally. His father's health had started its downhill slide, he had been grilled by his superiors about the escape of four prisoners, a black mark that was still on his record. Those prisoners had been a mixed bunch - one confirmed Soviet (the word 'nyet' had apparently given away his nationality), one large black man (with a strange crisscross scar across his belly revealed during the search for concealed weapons), one woman (with one hell of a smile) and a third man, presumably the leader, who gave his name as Luke Skywalker.
When Hammond had heard mention of that name back in the late '70's there had been a renewal of hope that perhaps the four prisoners claiming to be from the future, claiming to be under his command, had been telling the truth. He held on to that hope like a lifeline, desperate to believe their words because if he did, if it was true, then it meant he hadn't made the stupidest and potentially most dangerous mistake of his career. Of some comfort was the memory of the strange weapon the leader had used on the guards and on the bewildered younger Hammond. Not Earth technology, of that he was certain. He'd called it a ray gun. Then there was the letter, in his handwriting, and most convincing of all the mention of his father's first heart attack.
As time went on he tried not to think too much about the events of that day, tried to keep his focus on the here and now instead of some future maybe. A man didn't get very far nor last very long in the military if he had too much imagination.
Later that hope of his was given a boost when he saw that General Carter's daughter bore a startling resemblance to the female prisoner who had made such an impression on the young Lieutenant Hammond. A coincidence, he told himself, even as he held on to the comfort of being alive in the future as they sent him to one miserable war after another.
He'd had a good career. He had tried to play by the book. Despite himself he'd always been just a little too ... civilian, leading with his heart when he should have lead with logic and adhered to the rules. By the book. That's how the military played the game. He tried. It seemed to work, he'd made it to general. Eventually after years of service the USAF had seen fit to place him in the command of the Stargate project. Retirement loomed and what was to be his last glorious mission? Commanding a project in the process of being shut down. He wasn't sure if he was being punished by those he'd manage to annoy - and there were many - or rewarded, given an easy post until he retired. For whatever reason, he was in charge. The stargate and the people on the base were his responsibility.
And he failed them. He'd tried playing by the book but it hadn't saved his people guarding the gate when Apophis came calling.
Hammond swiped a hand across his eyes, vision blurring. Damn, he must be more tired than he'd thought.
He should have paid attention to the past.
He knew that Doctor Daniel Jackson and Colonel Jack O'Neill had stepped through the gate a year ago. He knew what they looked like, having read the reports.
He knew them.
Lieutenant Hammond knew them, back in '69. Knew them enough to trust them with his career and the security of his country.
Doctor Jackson was reported dead, killed on the Abydos mission.
Bullshit.
Instead of going with his heart, which told him to believe in the events of 1969, he'd continued playing it by the book. Instead of expecting the return of Doctor Jackson and the introduction of a new player in the game, a silent man with a gold emblem on his forehead, dark skin and the bearing of a prince, he had allowed the gradual shut down of a project he believed might be of incredible importance in the future.
Then Apophis showed up and killed some of his people.
He should have done more to stop it.
Hammond slumped forward, head propped in his hands, his elbow almost knocking over his cup of coffee. His wife used to joke that the reason he went bald so early on in life was because he worried too much, usually about other people. Then she'd kiss the top of his head and tell him it was one of the reasons she loved him. Damn but her missed her.
His fondness for his most unusual team would have amused her - though fond was hardly the word for the way he'd felt in the beginning. After that mess with Apophis he'd wanted to confront them, ask them why they hadn't told him more in '69. Of course that was impossible. To them it hadn't happened yet. Instead he had to bottle it up inside while he wrote letters of condolence to the families of the soldiers killed by Apophis' jaffa. His anger slipped out in small ways. A biting word here, a cutting phrase there. He'd been furious with O'Neill for his lies about the Abydos mission, furious with Jackson for his deception. For a while he swung between blaming them and blaming himself.
It took a while but eventually he placed the blame where it truly belonged, in the hands of Apophis.
After all, how could he criticise SG1 when he himself had to withhold information and play the waiting game? All because of a fear that he might change what was supposed to happen in the future.
While he believed no future was set in stone, the events of 1969 gave some small comfort in times of crisis. No matter what horrors were thrown at them he held onto the existence of SG1's future, waiting for the pieces to fall into place, to allow a glimpse of what was supposed to be. Even in their darkest hour, with Goa'uld mother ships heading towards Earth, there had been some small grain of hope that things might just work out all right, simply because Captain Samantha Carter hadn't cut her hand and General Hammond hadn't written his letter yet.
Then came the day he saw the cut on Carter's hand.
The wait was over. It had ended twelve hours ago when SG1 returned through the stargate wearing clothes from the past. He still didn't know what emotion was the stronger, relief that the wait was over or fear of the future. After all, there was no longer the comfort of a future where General Hammond wrote letters to a younger self.
Now he sat here, in his dimly light office, with his cold coffee and unread reports on his desk.
"Sir?"
Hammond looked up to see Colonel O'Neill standing in the doorway to his office, one hand on the handle, ready to back off if so requested. He'd changed out of his leather jacket and jeans, something Hammond was sure would be a source of regret to half the female personnel. Now he was in uniform and, good lord above, he'd actually managed to comb his hair flat.
Hammond gave a faint smile. "Come in, colonel. I see you're having trouble getting some rest."
"A little. I have a lot to think about."
"1969."
"Yeah. You too, huh?"
"Me too." Hammond watched the colonel as he shifted restlessly in front of his desk, O'Neill's gaze travelling over the evidence of many years service-in-action that decorated the wall behind the general. "Tell me, colonel. Do you think I should have told you?"
"That's what's been keeping me awake, sir. See, I figured you should. So I rounded up my team and we did the whole bonding, sharing thing. You know, talking about it and stuff. The more we discussed it the more angry I felt. So then I went through this whole confused 'why didn't he tell us' thing. That lasted about an hour. I got over it. I have been known to withhold information myself."
Thinking of a certain mission on Abydos, Hammond nodded.
"What came next?"
"A talk with Daniel and Teal'c about stuff. A talk with Carter about the physics of the whole time travel deal. A trip to Doctor Fraiser to get an aspirin to relieve the headache I got after listening to Carter.
"Your conclusion, colonel?"
"That Carter is way smarter than me, Daniel drinks far too much coffee and I should never play poker with Teal'c."
"About the mission." His expression serious, Hammond kept his head up, ready to face criticism.
"You did the right thing."
Hammond nodded, unable to hide the gratitude in his eyes. "That means a lot to me." Pausing to sip at his coffee - then putting it down in disgust when he discovered it was cold - the general heaved a sigh. "It's an uncertain future, Jack. Lord knows what cards fate will deal us."
"Oh, I plan on cheating when necessary, sir. Maybe slip a few cards up my sleeve. And we do have more than our fair share of aces."
Reflecting on the enormous resource of talent at SGC, particularly in Jack O'Neill's team, Hammond had to agree. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. If I could have told anyone ..."
"Understood, sir."
Hammond smiled as O'Neill straightened up, playing the good soldier. "It was a comfort knowing there was a future where SG1 was alive and well. We don't have that comfort any more."
O'Neill's expression was surprisingly gentle as he pointed out, "I never had that comfort, sir."
Hammond blinked, mouth parting in surprised revelation as the colonel's words made impact. "No. You didn't." He eyed the man before him, a thoughtful look on his face. "Have I ever told you how much I respect and admire you, colonel?"
O'Neill gave a smile, a warmth in his eyes. "Yes sir. Every time you send me through the 'gate leading your best team."
The general lowered his head, taken aback. He looked up again when O'Neill placed something on his desk. It was a check.
"Colonel?"
"The money I owe you. $539.50 wasn't it? I like to pay my debts."
Hammond picked up the piece of paper and an appreciative smile lit his face as he examined it. "This isn't your signature, colonel."
"I believe you'll find that's the name given on the interrogation report."
"Luke Skywalker?"
"Yes sir. May the force be with you."
Hammond shook his head and pocketed the check. "Get some sleep, colonel. That's an order."
"Good night, sir."
Hammond watched the other man leave then gave an amused snort. Luke Skywalker his ass. Han Solo maybe.
All right. So the future was uncertain. So he'd lost his advantage, slight though it was. No more foreknowledge, no small comfort that there was a future written for them. Now he had to live with uncertainty.
At least there was some comfort still to be had. Like Jack O'Neill had said, they had more than their fair share of aces. One of them had just left his office. As for the fear and uncertainty, well that was hardly new and might prove to be his greatest challenge.
It sure as hell beat retirement.
~fin~
AUTHOR: Ankh
ARCHIVED: http://bunnyfic.com/Ankh/Future_prospects.htm
CATEGORY: vignette; character musing
SPOILERS: season 2 episode '1969'
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: General Hammond reflects on past and future following SG1's time travel experience
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..
Date: Nov 1999
General Hammond settled back in his chair, ignoring the cup of coffee cooling on his desk. The light from the desk lamp provided little illumination but it was preferable to the harshness of the main light and, right now, he needed the shadows, just as he needed the relative peace to be found at 2 am. He had a lot to think about.
1969. Not a particularly good year for him personally. His father's health had started its downhill slide, he had been grilled by his superiors about the escape of four prisoners, a black mark that was still on his record. Those prisoners had been a mixed bunch - one confirmed Soviet (the word 'nyet' had apparently given away his nationality), one large black man (with a strange crisscross scar across his belly revealed during the search for concealed weapons), one woman (with one hell of a smile) and a third man, presumably the leader, who gave his name as Luke Skywalker.
When Hammond had heard mention of that name back in the late '70's there had been a renewal of hope that perhaps the four prisoners claiming to be from the future, claiming to be under his command, had been telling the truth. He held on to that hope like a lifeline, desperate to believe their words because if he did, if it was true, then it meant he hadn't made the stupidest and potentially most dangerous mistake of his career. Of some comfort was the memory of the strange weapon the leader had used on the guards and on the bewildered younger Hammond. Not Earth technology, of that he was certain. He'd called it a ray gun. Then there was the letter, in his handwriting, and most convincing of all the mention of his father's first heart attack.
As time went on he tried not to think too much about the events of that day, tried to keep his focus on the here and now instead of some future maybe. A man didn't get very far nor last very long in the military if he had too much imagination.
Later that hope of his was given a boost when he saw that General Carter's daughter bore a startling resemblance to the female prisoner who had made such an impression on the young Lieutenant Hammond. A coincidence, he told himself, even as he held on to the comfort of being alive in the future as they sent him to one miserable war after another.
He'd had a good career. He had tried to play by the book. Despite himself he'd always been just a little too ... civilian, leading with his heart when he should have lead with logic and adhered to the rules. By the book. That's how the military played the game. He tried. It seemed to work, he'd made it to general. Eventually after years of service the USAF had seen fit to place him in the command of the Stargate project. Retirement loomed and what was to be his last glorious mission? Commanding a project in the process of being shut down. He wasn't sure if he was being punished by those he'd manage to annoy - and there were many - or rewarded, given an easy post until he retired. For whatever reason, he was in charge. The stargate and the people on the base were his responsibility.
And he failed them. He'd tried playing by the book but it hadn't saved his people guarding the gate when Apophis came calling.
Hammond swiped a hand across his eyes, vision blurring. Damn, he must be more tired than he'd thought.
He should have paid attention to the past.
He knew that Doctor Daniel Jackson and Colonel Jack O'Neill had stepped through the gate a year ago. He knew what they looked like, having read the reports.
He knew them.
Lieutenant Hammond knew them, back in '69. Knew them enough to trust them with his career and the security of his country.
Doctor Jackson was reported dead, killed on the Abydos mission.
Bullshit.
Instead of going with his heart, which told him to believe in the events of 1969, he'd continued playing it by the book. Instead of expecting the return of Doctor Jackson and the introduction of a new player in the game, a silent man with a gold emblem on his forehead, dark skin and the bearing of a prince, he had allowed the gradual shut down of a project he believed might be of incredible importance in the future.
Then Apophis showed up and killed some of his people.
He should have done more to stop it.
Hammond slumped forward, head propped in his hands, his elbow almost knocking over his cup of coffee. His wife used to joke that the reason he went bald so early on in life was because he worried too much, usually about other people. Then she'd kiss the top of his head and tell him it was one of the reasons she loved him. Damn but her missed her.
His fondness for his most unusual team would have amused her - though fond was hardly the word for the way he'd felt in the beginning. After that mess with Apophis he'd wanted to confront them, ask them why they hadn't told him more in '69. Of course that was impossible. To them it hadn't happened yet. Instead he had to bottle it up inside while he wrote letters of condolence to the families of the soldiers killed by Apophis' jaffa. His anger slipped out in small ways. A biting word here, a cutting phrase there. He'd been furious with O'Neill for his lies about the Abydos mission, furious with Jackson for his deception. For a while he swung between blaming them and blaming himself.
It took a while but eventually he placed the blame where it truly belonged, in the hands of Apophis.
After all, how could he criticise SG1 when he himself had to withhold information and play the waiting game? All because of a fear that he might change what was supposed to happen in the future.
While he believed no future was set in stone, the events of 1969 gave some small comfort in times of crisis. No matter what horrors were thrown at them he held onto the existence of SG1's future, waiting for the pieces to fall into place, to allow a glimpse of what was supposed to be. Even in their darkest hour, with Goa'uld mother ships heading towards Earth, there had been some small grain of hope that things might just work out all right, simply because Captain Samantha Carter hadn't cut her hand and General Hammond hadn't written his letter yet.
Then came the day he saw the cut on Carter's hand.
The wait was over. It had ended twelve hours ago when SG1 returned through the stargate wearing clothes from the past. He still didn't know what emotion was the stronger, relief that the wait was over or fear of the future. After all, there was no longer the comfort of a future where General Hammond wrote letters to a younger self.
Now he sat here, in his dimly light office, with his cold coffee and unread reports on his desk.
"Sir?"
Hammond looked up to see Colonel O'Neill standing in the doorway to his office, one hand on the handle, ready to back off if so requested. He'd changed out of his leather jacket and jeans, something Hammond was sure would be a source of regret to half the female personnel. Now he was in uniform and, good lord above, he'd actually managed to comb his hair flat.
Hammond gave a faint smile. "Come in, colonel. I see you're having trouble getting some rest."
"A little. I have a lot to think about."
"1969."
"Yeah. You too, huh?"
"Me too." Hammond watched the colonel as he shifted restlessly in front of his desk, O'Neill's gaze travelling over the evidence of many years service-in-action that decorated the wall behind the general. "Tell me, colonel. Do you think I should have told you?"
"That's what's been keeping me awake, sir. See, I figured you should. So I rounded up my team and we did the whole bonding, sharing thing. You know, talking about it and stuff. The more we discussed it the more angry I felt. So then I went through this whole confused 'why didn't he tell us' thing. That lasted about an hour. I got over it. I have been known to withhold information myself."
Thinking of a certain mission on Abydos, Hammond nodded.
"What came next?"
"A talk with Daniel and Teal'c about stuff. A talk with Carter about the physics of the whole time travel deal. A trip to Doctor Fraiser to get an aspirin to relieve the headache I got after listening to Carter.
"Your conclusion, colonel?"
"That Carter is way smarter than me, Daniel drinks far too much coffee and I should never play poker with Teal'c."
"About the mission." His expression serious, Hammond kept his head up, ready to face criticism.
"You did the right thing."
Hammond nodded, unable to hide the gratitude in his eyes. "That means a lot to me." Pausing to sip at his coffee - then putting it down in disgust when he discovered it was cold - the general heaved a sigh. "It's an uncertain future, Jack. Lord knows what cards fate will deal us."
"Oh, I plan on cheating when necessary, sir. Maybe slip a few cards up my sleeve. And we do have more than our fair share of aces."
Reflecting on the enormous resource of talent at SGC, particularly in Jack O'Neill's team, Hammond had to agree. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. If I could have told anyone ..."
"Understood, sir."
Hammond smiled as O'Neill straightened up, playing the good soldier. "It was a comfort knowing there was a future where SG1 was alive and well. We don't have that comfort any more."
O'Neill's expression was surprisingly gentle as he pointed out, "I never had that comfort, sir."
Hammond blinked, mouth parting in surprised revelation as the colonel's words made impact. "No. You didn't." He eyed the man before him, a thoughtful look on his face. "Have I ever told you how much I respect and admire you, colonel?"
O'Neill gave a smile, a warmth in his eyes. "Yes sir. Every time you send me through the 'gate leading your best team."
The general lowered his head, taken aback. He looked up again when O'Neill placed something on his desk. It was a check.
"Colonel?"
"The money I owe you. $539.50 wasn't it? I like to pay my debts."
Hammond picked up the piece of paper and an appreciative smile lit his face as he examined it. "This isn't your signature, colonel."
"I believe you'll find that's the name given on the interrogation report."
"Luke Skywalker?"
"Yes sir. May the force be with you."
Hammond shook his head and pocketed the check. "Get some sleep, colonel. That's an order."
"Good night, sir."
Hammond watched the other man leave then gave an amused snort. Luke Skywalker his ass. Han Solo maybe.
All right. So the future was uncertain. So he'd lost his advantage, slight though it was. No more foreknowledge, no small comfort that there was a future written for them. Now he had to live with uncertainty.
At least there was some comfort still to be had. Like Jack O'Neill had said, they had more than their fair share of aces. One of them had just left his office. As for the fear and uncertainty, well that was hardly new and might prove to be his greatest challenge.
It sure as hell beat retirement.
~fin~