DATE: 22 JUN 2019
TIME: 20:00 ZULU
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED
General James Morris did not like her.
It was a statement of fact and not to be disputed in his mind. Any time a civilian wore the position of Secretary of Defense it had made him squeamish in the past. However, this time it was more noticeable. Morris had kept his mouth shut previously of course. First, in her position she was technically his boss. Second, far too many people had fawned and swooned over this woman in particular. His issue was not a perceived lack of capability, if anything Morris believed her to be extremely capable; perhaps too much so. No, the concern he had was one that sat in his core. She smiled too easily, was too friendly, always seemed to want to please everyone and everyone wanted to please her.
He did not like her.
“General?” the Secretary’s voice called out to him across the conference table.
“Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am. I was processing the last question. I have indeed completed the reading of the files and previous information,” Morris’ own voice sounded distant in his head. The manilla folders had been pulled out of their satchels earlier that month and were poured over by himself and the team he’d been assigned. It was the stuff that science fiction was made out of: hell, it was science fiction to the highest degree. “While I understand the structure of what you’re looking at ma’am, I am not entirely certain of a few facets. The first of which is perhaps the most self centered. Why me?”
The Secretary of Defense smiled at him, the curve of her lips walking the line between polite and vicious. “Because General, you are who the President asked be placed in charge. For myself, and on our side of things, there are several people we would have … preferred. However, the President was insistent, so here we are.”
The President. The only person Morris had come across in the past three years that had been willing to put his foot down with this woman despite the respect he’d shown in meetings. Rising from his spot, Morris moved around the conference room some to where he was standing, looking through the glass to the facility below. The lighting behind him gave the glass the ability to cast his reflection which he took in. When the hell did he get so old? His hair was always gone but now it was from an inability to grow rather than the usual shave that kept it close. Twenty-seven years in the Air Force and now this. A jacket, some stripes on it, and an assignment that had two outcomes really. Disaster or certain disaster.
“A lot of the file was redacted. Perhaps you’d be willing to fill me in on the details?” Morris heard his own voice but it sounded like someone else’s and his eyes could not peel away from what he was staring at. Soon he saw the reflection of the woman next to him as she spoke.
“Twenty-five years ago a reconnaissance team was sent of eight members. Seven military and one civilian. Contact was lost completely with the team. The President has decided that it is worth reinvestigating the situation to see if there are any suitable gains to be made.” The woman pauses, almost as if reading Morris’ mind; not the first time she had done so to the chagrin of the man. “Previous Administrations lacked the fortitude to take the risk, but as I’m sure you have seen the current President has no concerns about public perception or Congressional rebuttal.”
Her tone dropped, Morris did not like that, nor her proximity. “This is going forward James, with or without you. The President wants it to be with. He wanted me to remind you that you owe him. However, I am more than happy to …”
Morris cut her off, “I’ll take the assignment. What is the time table?”
“We’ll attempt contact in two hours.”
Two Hours later…
Morris stared out over the facility, still wondering just how things had gotten here. Twenty-five years of lost information, of something that no one knew outside of the handful of scientists and special operations that had previously staffed the location.
The sound of heavy machinery moving punched through the thick plexiglass which separated him from the room beyond, but he still could hear it. Hell, he could feel it in his bones. The last sound of loud metal scraping against itself echoed and it happened.
James Morris had never seen anything like it. The brilliant flash of light, the rush of sound and awed energy that occured before it settled back and rippled like a calm lake in front of him. Like others around, it took a few moments for reality to settle back onto him but when it did he found himself asking, “What did you say, Airman?”
“Sir. I said chevron seven locked in place.”
Morris remained quiet for a few moments before stepping forward and speaking into the intercom microphone.
“Stargate Team One. You’re clear for departure. God speed.”
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