V is for Victuals (G)
Written for SGC Alphabet Soup and SG-1 Gen Fic Day! This was not the fic I started with, but hey, it's the one that got finished. :)
Summary: Aliens, civilians, military personnel -- they all need feeding. That's Sophie's job, and she's proud to do it. 510 words. Rated G.
Includes blink-and-you'll-miss-it references to various canon events, but no real spoilers. Feel free to play spot the ep, if you'd like.
V is for Victuals
Master Sergeant Sophie Wilkes never got below Level 24 at Cheyenne Mountain, but that didn't matter. Her kingdom was Level 22: the general mess, the officer's mess, and the main kitchens. She supervised round-the-clock meals for a military base that never quite seemed to manage a regular schedule, taking the most bizarre situations in stride.
It didn't matter if it was a delicately-worded order for "vegetarian, organic foods for our... current refugees" or a personal request from General Hammond for a good steak meal with all the trimmings for "an old friend and former general, who will be visiting us today incognito." A muttered instruction to make sure that the officer's mess never ran out of blue jello or decent coffee left her unfazed. She dealt with finicky civilians and starving Marines with equal aplomb.
Her tenure at the SGC began with a relatively low security clearance and strictly need-to-know information, but as time went by, Sophie's security rating rose and her knowledge of the people she fed increased. Part of this might have been attributed to her calm reactions to situations such as "the petty demands of our visiting dignitaries," as Doctor Jackson disgustedly phrased it, but she suspected that General Hammond had been more impressed with her ability to keep a temporarily-incapacitated SG-1 amply stocked with pie and other desserts. Whatever the reason, Sophie was glad to know more about these people that were, in many ways, her personal charges. Teal'c hadn't seemed all that odd in comparison to some of the wider-eyed non-coms that passed through her domain, but the revelation of his alien origin certainly explained a lot. He seemed pleased that she no longer scolded him about the high cholesterol in his diet, now that she knew that his symbiote would take up the slack.
Sophie tried to stay impartial and serve all personnel with equal commitment, but she couldn't help developing a soft spot or two for certain people. When the combat teams trudged into the mess with dragging feet and haunted eyes, the roast beef sandwiches were a little thicker and juicier than usual. She kept a careful eye on the civvies from Level 19, who tended to live on coffee and doughnuts when she didn't put real food on their plates. Sergeant Siler, who could fix a broken freezer unit faster than anyone else she'd ever met, had a particular fondness for chocolate eclairs; Sophie made sure there were always a few put aside for him.
Her job seemed simple, commonplace: supervise the preparation of wholesome, good tasting food at Stargate Command, and keep it readily available. But jokes about armies marching on their stomachs aside, a well-fed SGC was a more capable one. Sophie might be a minor cog in a vast machine, but whether she was dealing with the Great Mashed Potato Crisis of 2004 or creating a feast for a gluttonous Goa'uld, she always did her part. Aliens, civilians, military personnel -- they all needed feeding. That was Sophie's job, and she was proud to do it.
Summary: Aliens, civilians, military personnel -- they all need feeding. That's Sophie's job, and she's proud to do it. 510 words. Rated G.
Includes blink-and-you'll-miss-it references to various canon events, but no real spoilers. Feel free to play spot the ep, if you'd like.
V is for Victuals
Master Sergeant Sophie Wilkes never got below Level 24 at Cheyenne Mountain, but that didn't matter. Her kingdom was Level 22: the general mess, the officer's mess, and the main kitchens. She supervised round-the-clock meals for a military base that never quite seemed to manage a regular schedule, taking the most bizarre situations in stride.
It didn't matter if it was a delicately-worded order for "vegetarian, organic foods for our... current refugees" or a personal request from General Hammond for a good steak meal with all the trimmings for "an old friend and former general, who will be visiting us today incognito." A muttered instruction to make sure that the officer's mess never ran out of blue jello or decent coffee left her unfazed. She dealt with finicky civilians and starving Marines with equal aplomb.
Her tenure at the SGC began with a relatively low security clearance and strictly need-to-know information, but as time went by, Sophie's security rating rose and her knowledge of the people she fed increased. Part of this might have been attributed to her calm reactions to situations such as "the petty demands of our visiting dignitaries," as Doctor Jackson disgustedly phrased it, but she suspected that General Hammond had been more impressed with her ability to keep a temporarily-incapacitated SG-1 amply stocked with pie and other desserts. Whatever the reason, Sophie was glad to know more about these people that were, in many ways, her personal charges. Teal'c hadn't seemed all that odd in comparison to some of the wider-eyed non-coms that passed through her domain, but the revelation of his alien origin certainly explained a lot. He seemed pleased that she no longer scolded him about the high cholesterol in his diet, now that she knew that his symbiote would take up the slack.
Sophie tried to stay impartial and serve all personnel with equal commitment, but she couldn't help developing a soft spot or two for certain people. When the combat teams trudged into the mess with dragging feet and haunted eyes, the roast beef sandwiches were a little thicker and juicier than usual. She kept a careful eye on the civvies from Level 19, who tended to live on coffee and doughnuts when she didn't put real food on their plates. Sergeant Siler, who could fix a broken freezer unit faster than anyone else she'd ever met, had a particular fondness for chocolate eclairs; Sophie made sure there were always a few put aside for him.
Her job seemed simple, commonplace: supervise the preparation of wholesome, good tasting food at Stargate Command, and keep it readily available. But jokes about armies marching on their stomachs aside, a well-fed SGC was a more capable one. Sophie might be a minor cog in a vast machine, but whether she was dealing with the Great Mashed Potato Crisis of 2004 or creating a feast for a gluttonous Goa'uld, she always did her part. Aliens, civilians, military personnel -- they all needed feeding. That was Sophie's job, and she was proud to do it.