Anyone Else Waiting for a Klaxon? - August 24th
Twisted Shorts August Fic-a-Day Challenge - Day 24
Title: Anyone Else Waiting for a Klaxon
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/SG1
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Stargate people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Buffy's assignment at the SGC gets more interesting.
Notes: So this seems to be a full story idea making its way through my muse. Which I’m completely blaming on Katy Perry’s music video “Part of Me”. Please don’t judge me…
Seasons: Timeline is a little skewed, putting the events of “Becoming” six years before SG1 “Children of the Gods,” this picks up S1Ep2 “The Enemy Within.”
Characters: Buffy, Hammond, Daniel
Word Count: 2600
Buffy stared at the wall across from her post. How had she gotten here? Miles beneath the surface.
It was easy really, she had shoved a sword through a barely re-ensouled Angel’s chest, sending him to hell. She had returned to her mother’s house just long enough to pack the essentials before boarding a bus for LA. That’s where her plans had gone in a direction she never expected. There had been a set of posters for each branch of the military.
She had chosen the Air Force almost immediately.
After a year to prepare and four at the Academy. She had been assigned to Cheyenne Mountain. She had been there for a year and a half before something strange happened and the base was reopened for use under General George Hammond as part of the top secret SGC.
A klaxon had her jumping from her thoughts. She sighed. For nearly a week they had lived on edge as the Goa’uld sent more troops through only to meet an instant and unpleasant end as they thudded right into the retractable metal iris that covered the wormhole when the Stargate was unexpectedly activated.
She sighed and rubbed her temple. Those klaxons were going to be the death of her.
“Summers!” someone yelled over the alarms.
Buffy looked up to see an airmen at the door.
“You’ve been ordered to report to General Hammond’s office.”
“When?”
“Now.”
Bufy jumped to and nodded. “Thank you.”
He nodded sharply. “Yes, ma’am.”
She would admit that the military structure took getting used to. But it had been the last place anyone: her friends, her family, the Watchers’ Council would look for her. Not to mention, after five years most descriptions of her were wrong. Where she had been lithe and small and a long-haired bottle blond with a bad attitude, she was athletic with short light brown. While she was only five four, it was not an unusual height for females in the Air Force.
Buffy arrived at the General’s door. She took a deep breath and knocked twice.
“Come in.”
She opened the door to face General Hammond behind his desk. He looked up as she came in.
“Lieutenant Summers,” he greeted.
“Sir,” she said, coming to attention.
“At ease,” he waved her down. “Close the door and have a seat.”
Buffy followed his instructions. He was an older man, bald and grandfatherly in looks. She kept her observations to herself and her back straight.
Hammond smiled at her. “You are wearing the wrong bars, Lieutenant.”
She frowned. “Sir?”
He slid a box across the desk to sit in front of her. The dark blue matched her Class A uniforms. She reached out and opened the box. Inside were two single silver bars.
“Sir?” she said in surprise.
“I know it’s not an official ceremony but as you can imagine we like the work you’re doing.”
“I’m not due for promotion for another five months,” she told him.
He chuckled softly. “Are you refusing, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir,” Buffy said. “I am simply attempting to…” She shook her head. “Thank you, sir.”
“This promotion is also to put you on one of the SG teams.”
Buffy thought she could not be more shocked. The SG teams were nine exclusive teams that were being sent through the Stargate to explore other worlds.
“An SG team, sir?”
“Presuming you are interested in traveling through the Stargate?”
“Yes.” She itched for a fight, a real fight. For her six years in Colorado Springs she had come across no demons or vampires, almost no strange deaths that could be attributed to the supernatural. While combat training, gymnastics, and fencing had been good for her strength and agility, there had always been something missing. Something her Slayer craved.
“Then, First Lieutenant Summers, you are hereby assigned to SG-1 under Colonel O’Neill.”
Buffy clenched her jaw to keep from looking like a fish. “Yes, sir.”
He chuckled. “I feel I have sufficiently surprised you for today. You should go, celebrate you promotion and we’ll see you at 0800 for duty.”
She stood and saluted. “Yes, sir, thank you.”
The General stood and returned the salute. Then he held out his hand which she took, careful of her true strength.
Somewhat dazed, Buffy headed to the locker room near the top-level of the base. She would likely not see the official letter for a couple of weeks along with the appropriate paperwork and emblems to arrive. She knew this was not the way it was supposed to work, but the General seemed determined. She knew she should question it, but a top tier team…a position like this…you did not question your luck.
She changed into her civvies and considered what would need to be moved below to the shared locker room for SG teams. She stopped on level six to report the end of her duty shift. The major nodded and signed her out speedily.
“Got any plans for tonight?” he asked.
“I’m thinking dinner. Then an early night.”
He smiled. “Good night, Lieutenant.”
“Good night, Major.”
88888888
Buffy sat at a little table with a large glass of water and a half eaten plate of chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes at her preferred pub. Next to her plate sat her new bars in their little dark blue box. She knew that she was supposed to call up friends and get them to come celebrate with her. But, much like her graduation from the Academy, it was hard to be someone who was estranged from her family.
She tapped her thumb against the blue box as her thoughts turned morose. Estranged would have been a step-up from her current status with everyone she knew before Colorado. She thought about her last night in Sunnydale as little as possible - which meant it starred in every dream, in every nightmare that she had in six years. She sighed. Sunnydale still stood, the supernatural world continued on without her. But she had done her part, right? She had died for her Calling and destroyed not one - but two threats to the world at large. What more could she give?
In a way, it was why the military had seemed like such a good choice. It was less likely to be just her between the world and destruction. Though, aliens seemed to throw that balance into question.
“Hey,” the soft voice of her server - Mike - was a glad distraction. He was five nine, forty years old, with short black hair. He was trim. He flirted with everyone but was in a committed relationship with his partner of fifteen years.
“Hey, Mike,” she greeted him, glad for a friendly face.
He smiled widely. “What’s this?” His finger landed next to hers on the blue box.
“Just a box of metal,” she replied.
“Can I see?”
She removed her hand. “Go ahead.”
Mike picked up the box with deft fingers and opened it. “Did this happen today?”
“Yeah, General gave them to me only a few hours ago.”
Then his smile turned slightly evil. He spun around. “Ladies and gentlemen, military and civilians,” he announced in a voice meant for a much larger space. “We have a new promotion!”
There was a cheer from the half full bar and a round of applause.
“I expect ten cents from every officer, five from every enlisted, and a penny from the civilians to buy this new first lieutenant a drink!”
“Shit,” Buffy muttered. She had known Mike since she her twenty-first birthday when he had seen to it to thoroughly embarrass her by announcing to the entire bar that she was going to the Academy and celebrating her first legal drink. And at least twice before now she had seen him demand the bar buy a drink for newly a promoted enlisted or officer. August, the bartender, grabbed a jar from beneath the bar and set it on the edge.
“If everyone would be so kind,” August called, tapping the large mouth of the container.
Buffy put her face in her hands and shook her head. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Babe,” Mike said, setting her box down. “Enjoy your moment. And tomorrow you can go back to being invisible.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Behind him were two familiar faces. She straightened up, trying to hide the extent of her embarrassment.
Mike glanced back and smiled at the men. He leaned down and not so whispered, “I got two on the line for you.”
“Don’t die on the way home, I don’t feel like being a suspect,” she shot back.
He chuckled and walked away. The two men watched her. One was bald and brown eyed with dark brown skin. The other was red haired and blue eyed with a light tan, that was probably closer to a sunburn.
“Can we join you?’ the redhead asked.
“Please,” she waved them to the empty seats.
“I don’t think we’ve met, but we’ve seen you around. I’m Will Peterson.”
“I’m Caleb Judson,” the redhead said with a smile.
“Buffy Summers,” she told them. “Are you both on Three?”
“Yeah.”
“Night off?” she asked.
“No, we just came from the base. Have to be back in ten hours,” Will told her.
Buffy checked her watch. “Me too.” There was an awkward beat. “Anybody else still waiting for a klaxon?”
“Yes!” Caleb said enthusiastically. “Every time I hear a loud noise I just keep expecting it to be followed by - braaaaaaan.”
She laughed at his theatrics.
Will punched him in the arm. “Enough, we need a few hours of quiet.”
“So what do you do?” Caleb asked.
“Um, I was just support but I got assigned to a team today,” she explained.
“Which team?” Will asked.
“One.”
Both men paused.
“I thought O’Neill wasn’t set on anyone but the guy they brought back,” Caleb said.
“What?” Buffy asked. “The guy…”
“Yeah. I heard he and Hammond were still arguing over it.”
All her excitement over the possibility of going through the Gate fled. “Hammond was the one who said I was on the team.”
“Well, some of the teams are five-man,” Caleb pointed out.
Mike arrived with a tall drink. “A Bahama Mama, tall and super sweet.” He gave her a wink. “Everything you’re not.”
Buffy took a deep sip. It was one of the reason she did not drink. Her Slayer metabolism worked through alcohol too quickly to allow her much of a buzz for any sustained amount of time. The strong sweet tang and rum flavors were nice. She did not know much about alcohol but it was good. She lifted her glass. “Thank you, everyone.”
88888888
Buffy shook her head to clear it of webs as she ran. She was in no way hungover, but she was not a morning person. When she could, she ran in the middle of the night, even thru cemeteries, though she did not slow down unless she felt something. And she never left something.
She talked herself down as she ran. She really wanted to be on a SG team, and the prospect of being on the flag team had really gotten to her. Getting through the Academy had been about hard work, about a goal. But the last nineteen months had been listless, with no mission and too much time to think. She needed a goal even if it was ‘survey place, don’t die.’
Maybe if she was denied placement on SG-1 she could vie for an open position on one of the other teams or put in her willingness to be an alternate. Or maybe she could see about manning the Embarkation room during unauthorized off-world activations.
“Or maybe just bone up,” she muttered to herself as she passed another Air Force man running the trail. She kept her pace steady, her gait smooth. At the next fork she veered right, still muttering.
Her thoughts did not settle all the way home. Nor during her shower. Not over her morning oatmeal and banana. Nor on the drive to the base.
She stood in the elevator trying to find a place to start. The door opened on Level 18 to let someone out. Buffy studied the people moving through the halls. Without notice, she stepped out of the elevator. It was not until she heard the door close behind her that she realized why.
Doctor Daniel Jackson was walking down the hallway, his face buried in a book. So buried, he did not see that he had dropped a paper. She picked it up, finding a paper with a list of scribbles. She stared at it for a moment and jogged to catch up with him.
“Doctor Jackson,” Buffy called when she was behind him.
He didn’t stop.
She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “Doctor Jackson?”
His bright blue eyes widened behind his glasses. “Y-yes. Yes?”
“My god, you walk faster than any scientist I’ve ever met.” Not too fast for her, but she was used to a sedate pace to catch them.
“Archeologist,” he pointed a finger to his chest. “I’m an archeologist and a linguist.”
“Okay, Indy,” Buffy said. “You dropped this.”
“Oh.” He took the paper. “Wel-well, uh, thank you.” He turned away.
“What is it?” she asked taking steps to fall-in with him.
“Excuse me?”
“The scribbles,” she pointed to the paper. “I’m assuming it’s a translation.”
“Oh, uh, yes, actually. A few of the words we’ve heard the Jaffa and Goa’uld speak,” he gestured to it. “It’s similar to the language I learned on Abydos.”
“So a deviation of Ancient Egyptian?” she recalled the preliminary reports.
“Yes. Do you-do you know any languages?”
“Arabic, French, and Spanish.”
“Are you a linguist?”
“No, just an Air Force lieutenant,” she grinned.
“How did you learn three languages?”
“I grew up in SoCal,” she explained. “So Spanish I mostly picked up. French I tried to learn in high school, but it was my roommate at the Academy who refused to speak anything but French in the dorms who finally managed to teach me.”
“A-and Arabic?”
“My language requirement for the Academy.”
“Oh, of-of course.”
Buffy stopped. “I believe you missed your office, Doctor.”
She stood at the doorway to the office that had been assigned to him. It was amusing to watch a man in his thirties blush at such a simple gaff. Despite his embarrassment, he thanked her.
She smiled. “I’ll catch you later, Indy,” she told him before heading back towards the elevator.
88888888
Buffy paused outside the door to General Hammond’s office. The yelling was clear. She turned to the officer who served as assistant to the General.
“Please, for the love of everything holy, tell me that he’s not in a meeting with Colonel O’Neill.”
The officer cringed at another sharp yell from the office. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”
Buffy closed her eyes and prayed for something that would allow her to face this with grace. But as the yelling continued, she just hoped to hold her temper.
The door to the General’s office opened. Her spine stiffened and she came to attention, watching as the Colonel passed without glancing at either one of them.
“Lieutenant,” the General said, “good. I wanted a word.”
“Is that word how much trouble I may have on SG-1?”
Hammond shook his head. “No. Have you met the Jaffa Teal’c?”
“No, sir, my assignment never made it necessary.”
“I want you to meet with him. Give me your impression.”
She frowned. “Yes, sir.”
“He’s in the brig on Level 16.”
Buffy nodded.
Title: Anyone Else Waiting for a Klaxon
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/SG1
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Stargate people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Buffy's assignment at the SGC gets more interesting.
Notes: So this seems to be a full story idea making its way through my muse. Which I’m completely blaming on Katy Perry’s music video “Part of Me”. Please don’t judge me…
Seasons: Timeline is a little skewed, putting the events of “Becoming” six years before SG1 “Children of the Gods,” this picks up S1Ep2 “The Enemy Within.”
Characters: Buffy, Hammond, Daniel
Word Count: 2600
Buffy stared at the wall across from her post. How had she gotten here? Miles beneath the surface.
It was easy really, she had shoved a sword through a barely re-ensouled Angel’s chest, sending him to hell. She had returned to her mother’s house just long enough to pack the essentials before boarding a bus for LA. That’s where her plans had gone in a direction she never expected. There had been a set of posters for each branch of the military.
She had chosen the Air Force almost immediately.
After a year to prepare and four at the Academy. She had been assigned to Cheyenne Mountain. She had been there for a year and a half before something strange happened and the base was reopened for use under General George Hammond as part of the top secret SGC.
A klaxon had her jumping from her thoughts. She sighed. For nearly a week they had lived on edge as the Goa’uld sent more troops through only to meet an instant and unpleasant end as they thudded right into the retractable metal iris that covered the wormhole when the Stargate was unexpectedly activated.
She sighed and rubbed her temple. Those klaxons were going to be the death of her.
“Summers!” someone yelled over the alarms.
Buffy looked up to see an airmen at the door.
“You’ve been ordered to report to General Hammond’s office.”
“When?”
“Now.”
Bufy jumped to and nodded. “Thank you.”
He nodded sharply. “Yes, ma’am.”
She would admit that the military structure took getting used to. But it had been the last place anyone: her friends, her family, the Watchers’ Council would look for her. Not to mention, after five years most descriptions of her were wrong. Where she had been lithe and small and a long-haired bottle blond with a bad attitude, she was athletic with short light brown. While she was only five four, it was not an unusual height for females in the Air Force.
Buffy arrived at the General’s door. She took a deep breath and knocked twice.
“Come in.”
She opened the door to face General Hammond behind his desk. He looked up as she came in.
“Lieutenant Summers,” he greeted.
“Sir,” she said, coming to attention.
“At ease,” he waved her down. “Close the door and have a seat.”
Buffy followed his instructions. He was an older man, bald and grandfatherly in looks. She kept her observations to herself and her back straight.
Hammond smiled at her. “You are wearing the wrong bars, Lieutenant.”
She frowned. “Sir?”
He slid a box across the desk to sit in front of her. The dark blue matched her Class A uniforms. She reached out and opened the box. Inside were two single silver bars.
“Sir?” she said in surprise.
“I know it’s not an official ceremony but as you can imagine we like the work you’re doing.”
“I’m not due for promotion for another five months,” she told him.
He chuckled softly. “Are you refusing, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir,” Buffy said. “I am simply attempting to…” She shook her head. “Thank you, sir.”
“This promotion is also to put you on one of the SG teams.”
Buffy thought she could not be more shocked. The SG teams were nine exclusive teams that were being sent through the Stargate to explore other worlds.
“An SG team, sir?”
“Presuming you are interested in traveling through the Stargate?”
“Yes.” She itched for a fight, a real fight. For her six years in Colorado Springs she had come across no demons or vampires, almost no strange deaths that could be attributed to the supernatural. While combat training, gymnastics, and fencing had been good for her strength and agility, there had always been something missing. Something her Slayer craved.
“Then, First Lieutenant Summers, you are hereby assigned to SG-1 under Colonel O’Neill.”
Buffy clenched her jaw to keep from looking like a fish. “Yes, sir.”
He chuckled. “I feel I have sufficiently surprised you for today. You should go, celebrate you promotion and we’ll see you at 0800 for duty.”
She stood and saluted. “Yes, sir, thank you.”
The General stood and returned the salute. Then he held out his hand which she took, careful of her true strength.
Somewhat dazed, Buffy headed to the locker room near the top-level of the base. She would likely not see the official letter for a couple of weeks along with the appropriate paperwork and emblems to arrive. She knew this was not the way it was supposed to work, but the General seemed determined. She knew she should question it, but a top tier team…a position like this…you did not question your luck.
She changed into her civvies and considered what would need to be moved below to the shared locker room for SG teams. She stopped on level six to report the end of her duty shift. The major nodded and signed her out speedily.
“Got any plans for tonight?” he asked.
“I’m thinking dinner. Then an early night.”
He smiled. “Good night, Lieutenant.”
“Good night, Major.”
88888888
Buffy sat at a little table with a large glass of water and a half eaten plate of chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes at her preferred pub. Next to her plate sat her new bars in their little dark blue box. She knew that she was supposed to call up friends and get them to come celebrate with her. But, much like her graduation from the Academy, it was hard to be someone who was estranged from her family.
She tapped her thumb against the blue box as her thoughts turned morose. Estranged would have been a step-up from her current status with everyone she knew before Colorado. She thought about her last night in Sunnydale as little as possible - which meant it starred in every dream, in every nightmare that she had in six years. She sighed. Sunnydale still stood, the supernatural world continued on without her. But she had done her part, right? She had died for her Calling and destroyed not one - but two threats to the world at large. What more could she give?
In a way, it was why the military had seemed like such a good choice. It was less likely to be just her between the world and destruction. Though, aliens seemed to throw that balance into question.
“Hey,” the soft voice of her server - Mike - was a glad distraction. He was five nine, forty years old, with short black hair. He was trim. He flirted with everyone but was in a committed relationship with his partner of fifteen years.
“Hey, Mike,” she greeted him, glad for a friendly face.
He smiled widely. “What’s this?” His finger landed next to hers on the blue box.
“Just a box of metal,” she replied.
“Can I see?”
She removed her hand. “Go ahead.”
Mike picked up the box with deft fingers and opened it. “Did this happen today?”
“Yeah, General gave them to me only a few hours ago.”
Then his smile turned slightly evil. He spun around. “Ladies and gentlemen, military and civilians,” he announced in a voice meant for a much larger space. “We have a new promotion!”
There was a cheer from the half full bar and a round of applause.
“I expect ten cents from every officer, five from every enlisted, and a penny from the civilians to buy this new first lieutenant a drink!”
“Shit,” Buffy muttered. She had known Mike since she her twenty-first birthday when he had seen to it to thoroughly embarrass her by announcing to the entire bar that she was going to the Academy and celebrating her first legal drink. And at least twice before now she had seen him demand the bar buy a drink for newly a promoted enlisted or officer. August, the bartender, grabbed a jar from beneath the bar and set it on the edge.
“If everyone would be so kind,” August called, tapping the large mouth of the container.
Buffy put her face in her hands and shook her head. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Babe,” Mike said, setting her box down. “Enjoy your moment. And tomorrow you can go back to being invisible.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Behind him were two familiar faces. She straightened up, trying to hide the extent of her embarrassment.
Mike glanced back and smiled at the men. He leaned down and not so whispered, “I got two on the line for you.”
“Don’t die on the way home, I don’t feel like being a suspect,” she shot back.
He chuckled and walked away. The two men watched her. One was bald and brown eyed with dark brown skin. The other was red haired and blue eyed with a light tan, that was probably closer to a sunburn.
“Can we join you?’ the redhead asked.
“Please,” she waved them to the empty seats.
“I don’t think we’ve met, but we’ve seen you around. I’m Will Peterson.”
“I’m Caleb Judson,” the redhead said with a smile.
“Buffy Summers,” she told them. “Are you both on Three?”
“Yeah.”
“Night off?” she asked.
“No, we just came from the base. Have to be back in ten hours,” Will told her.
Buffy checked her watch. “Me too.” There was an awkward beat. “Anybody else still waiting for a klaxon?”
“Yes!” Caleb said enthusiastically. “Every time I hear a loud noise I just keep expecting it to be followed by - braaaaaaan.”
She laughed at his theatrics.
Will punched him in the arm. “Enough, we need a few hours of quiet.”
“So what do you do?” Caleb asked.
“Um, I was just support but I got assigned to a team today,” she explained.
“Which team?” Will asked.
“One.”
Both men paused.
“I thought O’Neill wasn’t set on anyone but the guy they brought back,” Caleb said.
“What?” Buffy asked. “The guy…”
“Yeah. I heard he and Hammond were still arguing over it.”
All her excitement over the possibility of going through the Gate fled. “Hammond was the one who said I was on the team.”
“Well, some of the teams are five-man,” Caleb pointed out.
Mike arrived with a tall drink. “A Bahama Mama, tall and super sweet.” He gave her a wink. “Everything you’re not.”
Buffy took a deep sip. It was one of the reason she did not drink. Her Slayer metabolism worked through alcohol too quickly to allow her much of a buzz for any sustained amount of time. The strong sweet tang and rum flavors were nice. She did not know much about alcohol but it was good. She lifted her glass. “Thank you, everyone.”
88888888
Buffy shook her head to clear it of webs as she ran. She was in no way hungover, but she was not a morning person. When she could, she ran in the middle of the night, even thru cemeteries, though she did not slow down unless she felt something. And she never left something.
She talked herself down as she ran. She really wanted to be on a SG team, and the prospect of being on the flag team had really gotten to her. Getting through the Academy had been about hard work, about a goal. But the last nineteen months had been listless, with no mission and too much time to think. She needed a goal even if it was ‘survey place, don’t die.’
Maybe if she was denied placement on SG-1 she could vie for an open position on one of the other teams or put in her willingness to be an alternate. Or maybe she could see about manning the Embarkation room during unauthorized off-world activations.
“Or maybe just bone up,” she muttered to herself as she passed another Air Force man running the trail. She kept her pace steady, her gait smooth. At the next fork she veered right, still muttering.
Her thoughts did not settle all the way home. Nor during her shower. Not over her morning oatmeal and banana. Nor on the drive to the base.
She stood in the elevator trying to find a place to start. The door opened on Level 18 to let someone out. Buffy studied the people moving through the halls. Without notice, she stepped out of the elevator. It was not until she heard the door close behind her that she realized why.
Doctor Daniel Jackson was walking down the hallway, his face buried in a book. So buried, he did not see that he had dropped a paper. She picked it up, finding a paper with a list of scribbles. She stared at it for a moment and jogged to catch up with him.
“Doctor Jackson,” Buffy called when she was behind him.
He didn’t stop.
She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “Doctor Jackson?”
His bright blue eyes widened behind his glasses. “Y-yes. Yes?”
“My god, you walk faster than any scientist I’ve ever met.” Not too fast for her, but she was used to a sedate pace to catch them.
“Archeologist,” he pointed a finger to his chest. “I’m an archeologist and a linguist.”
“Okay, Indy,” Buffy said. “You dropped this.”
“Oh.” He took the paper. “Wel-well, uh, thank you.” He turned away.
“What is it?” she asked taking steps to fall-in with him.
“Excuse me?”
“The scribbles,” she pointed to the paper. “I’m assuming it’s a translation.”
“Oh, uh, yes, actually. A few of the words we’ve heard the Jaffa and Goa’uld speak,” he gestured to it. “It’s similar to the language I learned on Abydos.”
“So a deviation of Ancient Egyptian?” she recalled the preliminary reports.
“Yes. Do you-do you know any languages?”
“Arabic, French, and Spanish.”
“Are you a linguist?”
“No, just an Air Force lieutenant,” she grinned.
“How did you learn three languages?”
“I grew up in SoCal,” she explained. “So Spanish I mostly picked up. French I tried to learn in high school, but it was my roommate at the Academy who refused to speak anything but French in the dorms who finally managed to teach me.”
“A-and Arabic?”
“My language requirement for the Academy.”
“Oh, of-of course.”
Buffy stopped. “I believe you missed your office, Doctor.”
She stood at the doorway to the office that had been assigned to him. It was amusing to watch a man in his thirties blush at such a simple gaff. Despite his embarrassment, he thanked her.
She smiled. “I’ll catch you later, Indy,” she told him before heading back towards the elevator.
88888888
Buffy paused outside the door to General Hammond’s office. The yelling was clear. She turned to the officer who served as assistant to the General.
“Please, for the love of everything holy, tell me that he’s not in a meeting with Colonel O’Neill.”
The officer cringed at another sharp yell from the office. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”
Buffy closed her eyes and prayed for something that would allow her to face this with grace. But as the yelling continued, she just hoped to hold her temper.
The door to the General’s office opened. Her spine stiffened and she came to attention, watching as the Colonel passed without glancing at either one of them.
“Lieutenant,” the General said, “good. I wanted a word.”
“Is that word how much trouble I may have on SG-1?”
Hammond shook his head. “No. Have you met the Jaffa Teal’c?”
“No, sir, my assignment never made it necessary.”
“I want you to meet with him. Give me your impression.”
She frowned. “Yes, sir.”
“He’s in the brig on Level 16.”
Buffy nodded.