Disclaimer: I do not own the right to Stargate, SG1, or any of its affiliates. I write this story for my own amusement...and yours...

This is not how it was suppose to be. Awarded NCO of the year, two years in a row at the wing level, once at the Major Command Level, nothing but stellar marks on all my Enlisted Performance Reviews, the proverbial "fire-wall 5's". Sure I didn't make Technical Sergeant on my first few go arounds, but honestly, most people don't. Ten years into my military career, all the accolades and praise from my superiors, and the assignment I am given is one handed out to people waiting to retire, Cheyenne Mountain.

Sure, this could be a choice assignment if I was getting placed in NORAD, but no, it is a mothballed project in some sub-level basement deep inside a mountain.

The worst part, I am not even sure why I am going there. I work on cryptographic systems and networks. What project, in the mountain, which is not NORAD, could possibly need those skills? During my move to Colorado, I tried to ask my sponsor just that, and got back nothing but static and silence. I got the impression his GAFF (Give a Flip Factor) was low or non-existent.

After my 10 days of House hunting, delivery of our household goods, only half of which were damaged this time, I was able to report in to my new boss.

"Tech Sergeant Marriman?," the General asked from behind his tiny desk in his broom closet office.

"It's Harriman, sir," Walter replied still holding his salute, eyes straight ahead and his back straight as a board.

"Sorry about that son," the General replied with the sound of actual remorse in his Texan twang.

"No problem sir," Walter returned, dropping his salute a milla-second after the General looked up and waved his arm in a sloppy salute.

"Look son, I don't really know what you were told about this assignment, but there is not a lot here to keep you busy." The General started, looking up from a folder on his desk. "Just about everyone here is waiting to drop their papers, or simply waiting for everything to get processed so they can step out to their retirement of choice. I, myself, am looking forward to spending time with my daughter and my grandchildren, maybe write a book" a faraway look in his eyes.

"So you are clearly too young to retire, and your record is too strong for you be here as some sort of punishment, so I would like to know your reason for this post."

"Well sir," Walter started, panicking a little as he didn't have any sort of coherent response to the question, "I am not entirely sure myself. I got the orders to move, and I moved, sir. I intend to do my best here for as long as I am assigned."

"Good to know son," the General replied, "I will hold you to that."

And with that statement, the dismissal was clear. Snapping another salute, TSgt Harriman quickly left the office to look for his work station.

After an hour or wondering, Walter was able to find the room he was assigned to work. it was even smaller than the General's office, which did not surprise him in the least, but it also had two other people squeezed into it. The space was so tight that if any of them wanted to step out, the others would have to shuffle around to make a path to the door. Add to this inconvenience, there were only two computers for the three of them, one of which only worked when it felt like it.

I only have to endure here for two years, Walter said in his head. After two years I will be eligible for a PCS and can return to my planned career. Over and over he repeated this thought, a mantra he feared he would have to use to remain sane.

A phone rang in the room, breaking his train of thought. Looking, he spotted it on one of the shared desks currently occupied by a Master Sergeant who was doing his best to ignore the unremitting noise created by the clearly possessed device.

"You gonna answer that," Walter asked, his personality unable to ignore a call which could result in something to due which could be of importance.

With an exasperated look, the Master Sergeant slapped the receiver, catching the phone and speaking in a flat, emotionless voice, "Siler"

After a second he placed his hand over the receiver and said, "New Guy, you named Harriman?"

After a nod, Siler thrust the phone into his hands and immediately returned to what ever gadget had previously occupied his attention before the phone rang.

"This is Sergeant Harriman," Walter said into the phone, confused that anyone even knew how to reach him since he didn't even know the number to the phone in his hand.

"Hello Walter," the voice on the other side said with malice and venom oozing through the line.

Confused, Walter pulled the receiver from his ear and looked at it as if that action alone would give him the ability to see the face on the other side of that call.

Putting the phone back by his ear he stated, "yes, can I help you?"

After a moment of silence, the voice on the line continued, "do you know who this is?" and when no response immediately replied it continued, "It's me, Walter. You thought you were so smart, always there with answer before the bosses could even ask the question. Well, where is your answer now, Walter," his name spit out like it was an insult, "where is it?"

Walter was still not sure who was on the other side of the phone, but without a doubt, this person seemed to know him. Mentally running through the very short list of people who disliked him, Walter wasn't able to put his finger of who this could possibly be. There was the old man back in his home town who hated everyone, that one cashier who got angry with him for have more than the maximum of 15 items in his cart even though there was no one else in line behind him, his elementary librarian who was upset because the book he checked out was actually eaten, chewed up really, by his dog. He could not come up with a single name of anyone he had upset. To the best of his knowledge he had no enemies.

"I'm sorry," he finally stated, trying to sound friendly, "who is this?"

"What?," the phantom voice shouted at him, so loud he had to pull the phone out to arms length, "You can't be serious," it continued, followed with words which were coloring the air a shade of black and brown with their foulness.

When the voice finished, Walter tepidly brought the receiver back to ear and stated, "I'm sorry, but I really don't know who this is. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes," the voice said, back in control of it volume and the acid in the voice attempted to melt the phone in his hand, "you can enjoy your assignment Walter. You will be there for rest of your miserable career. This I can promise you."

With that, the phone went dead. Walter looked at the faces of the other two men in the room and they seemed to be at least as confused as he was.

"Wrong number," Walter said sheepishly, getting a laugh from the room.

Two boring months went by for Walter. In that time he learned where the computer techs had hidden the solitaire games on the computer. One day, as he was deep into a game an Airman poked his head in the door and Walter was called to speak with a General for the second time in his life.

Knocking once on the frame of the door as was protocol, Walter waited for the "Enter" before he marched in, centering himself on the General's desk and stated while saluting, "Technical Sergeant Harriman reports as ordered sir," dropping his salute only after the General gave him one.

"Son," the General started, "This assignment has not given me many opportunities to give out good news..."

After a pregnant pause, giving Walter more than enough time to replay that strange call and every event in his life which could result in a dressing down or worse from this man, the General continued, "and I am pleased that today is one of those rare opportunities. Congratulations Master Sergeant," the General stated, standing up from behind his desk and thrusting out his right hand for a strong shake with a flabbergasted Walter. "You were promoted on the last board, and your line number is so low you should have already pinned on."

Still speechless, Walter just stood there as the General came from around his desk and politely guided him towards the door. "Now take the rest of the day and get your uniforms in order, I don't want you to be out of regs tomorrow."

Still in shock, Walter nodded and somehow managed to find the elevator and go up the two floors to the SF check in desk, scribbling his initial on the paperwork as he transferred to the last elevator that would take him up to the ground level. He knew his promotion package had an error on it which was identified on the initial board, and when he had been passed over he just assumed he was done and would have to try again next year. The error, an typographical error on an EPR date, must have been corrected or ignored for him to eligible much less promoted.

As he stepped out of the elevator, still slightly in a fog of disbelief, he failed to notice the bodies rushing towards the complex he had just exited. Walter did not hear the bells and whistles going off behind him and his mind rushed to possibilities which now were before him.

He had discovered that the voice on that phantom phone call two months ago belonged to one Master Sergeant Cyrus Dumas. A man whom he had never actually met, but who had blamed Walter for being passed over. The man believed that he should have been the recipient of some accolade or award which Walter had rightfully earned. Master Sergeant Dumas was convinced that Walter had somehow weaseled his way in with Col Bravos, their squadron commander, insisting Dumas was not worthy and taking credit for some fictitious action which elevated Walter's worth. In truth, Walter had never even had a chance to speak with Colonel Bravos until the day he was out-processing.

It couldn't have been all bad for Dumas as his next assignment was that of Functional Manager. He was the man in charge of assigning names of enlisted 2E2's, or computer, network, switching and Crypto systems, to open assignments. In short, he was directly responsible for getting Walter assigned to this location. He had the power to align his anger and hatred for Walter with the crappiest assignment one could find that was open at the time. Walter was only happy there were no vacancies in Greenland.

As he drove away from the base, looking for the closest tailor shop still open to get his new stripes sewn onto his uniform, Walter was oblivious to the mountain complex behind him going into lock-down, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead and not on the mirrors reflecting the activity behind him.

Walter was stepping out of the tailor shop with his newly tacked stripes on the blues he was wearing when his pager buzzed with a 911 followed by the base extension. Shocked that the pager even worked, it took him a full minute before he registered it was a recall to base. As the day was getting late, Walter was worried as to what would prompt this recall into the dead project section, assuming it must have been some sort of exercise.

Still, Walter was not one to shirk his responsibility.

Getting into his car, he turned back towards the base, planning to call his wife the moment he got back to his desk and tell her the news. They would have to go out to dinner if he got released early enough tonight to celebrate.

As he pulled into his parking lot, Walter noticed the increased number of cars and again wondered what sort of exercise would affect this many people. As he boarded the bus that shuttled people from the parking areas to the complex, Walter was forced to stand as the seats were all taken. Five minutes later he was disembarking with the wave of people, trying to not shove or be shoved as he came to stand before the elevators.

As the elevator descended, the people started to thin as each floor was the destination for at least one person or another. Finally at sub level 11, Walter and a Technical Sergeant, whom he had seen in the halls but never actually met, moved to the second set of elevators.

A large Security Forces Staff Sergeant was standing before the doors, a stern angry look in his eyes as he demanded their security badges. As he gave Walter's badge more scrutiny than it had received from every other collective time it had been looked at since his arrival, the SF stepped to the side and waved them in with a short jerk of his M-16 barrel.

At his floor, Walter turned towards his office once again thinking only of calling his wife to tell her about the promotion. Elated beyond belief, Walter's bubble burst as Master Sergeant Siler greeted him at the door and dragged him over to a stack of books almost as tall as Siler.

"You need to read this now," Siler said, not even noticing the additional strip on Walter's arm. "The Major dropped this off thirty minutes ago and we are expected for a brief in an hour."

Taking a spot at the desk, the two Master Sergeants divided the books and folders, each now believing this was some sort of practical joke. These manuals described the use of a super computer to translate and interpret some program into another device which manually move a ring with chevrons to open a gate. The more he read the more unlikely it seemed, and yet, the detail and sheer amount of information was proof enough to him that this was not a joke. No one had that kind of time.

The hour came and went in the blink of an eye, and suddenly Walter, Siler, and several other technicians were crammed into a room with a glass wall with some metal covering dropped over them. The room itself was sparse, only one large conference table covered with a giant tarp and a few chairs. In the front of the room there was a door leading to a darkened room, and only a few feet to his right there were some stairs leading down into another room filled with hum of computer banks.

The murmuring in the room instantly ceased when somewhere from the front a voice shouted, "Room Ten-Hutt!"

Everyone snapped to attention and from the darkened room emerged Gen Hammond. "At ease people," he said with a voice demanding they better still be listening to every word spoken. "An hour and, " glancing down at his watch, "twenty three minutes ago this facility was attacked."

The room instantly buzzed with the shocked tones of those assembled, yet the General continued without pause, "each of you were chosen to be here because of a skill set you posses. I know most of you assumed this was just a cake walk assignment, a slight pause on your way to retirement. As of right now that is not the case! There are four dead because of the breach, and also Senior Airman Peterings is now considered MIA. As of right this minute you live here. Each of you need to do your part to learn about that," Hammond said as he pointed as the now raising blast shields, drawing everyone's eye to the giant metal ring object in the large open room just beyond the windows. "The reports are real, that is a gateway to a planet on the other side of the galaxy. Each of you had better be an expert on this as of yesterday because lives now depend on it."

Turning from the crowd, General Hammond stepped back towards the room that was now going to be his office for this crisis, he stated flatly, "Dismissed!"

Siler and Walter went back to their office and again poured over the stacks of information with a new vigor. This was not science fiction or some elaborate hoax, it was real. Generals do not kid around, and the man who just addressed them was not about to take anything less than their best.

As they each absorbed as much as they could one or the other would make some comment about what they just read. "Look at the power required for this," or "Each of these chevrons encode through the program and final one locks engaging the gate," and both of them mentioned, "What is naquada?"

Time again escaped them before they were each called back to the conference room on the bottom level to get started on their assignments. Siler was directed into the room with the Star Gate as Walter had found it was called, to work on the power relays, while Walter was seated at a computer terminal to familiarize himself with the Crypto program that ran the algorithms for the chevrons on the wheel.

He had only been there for a few minutes before he saw Siler and a few other technicians wheeling out some large crate with a very distinct symbol on the side showing it was nuclear and another symbol denoting explosive category 1. Having never witnessed this in person, but having seen those symbols used on television and in one of the previous reports on this Star Gate, he knew it had to be some sort of a nuclear bomb. the crate was carefully removed and disappeared down some hallway while the bomb sat on a sled waiting to be armed and moved.

Walter had to admit it looked nothing like he expected.

As he looked out the window, Walter saw General Hammond enter the room with Major Samuel and some civilian in a leather jacket. As he watched, he could see the civilian and the General getting into some sort of an argument, Major Samuel joining them before the General yelled loud enough that he could be heard in the control room, and the civilian was escorted away by two of the SF's.

Ten minutes later the civilian, led the General and a few other officers in BDUs into the control room and directed Walter to dial up Abydos. With a puzzled look, Walter looked to the General for confirmation and after an abrupt nod, turned to his computer and programmed the address designated as Abydos. Calling out each chevron as the computer encoded them, in his excitement Walter called out the final chevron as locked and was amazed by the sudden flash of blue as the event horizon, as the manual called it, seemed to jump out of the gate with a loud "whoosh" towards him like a giant foamy wave only to return towards the stargate like a rubber-band snapping back into place. The blue shimmering on the surface almost like the small pond his parents took him to when he was twelve. Walter felt as if he could sit there and get lost in the oddly calming color and movement of this device which could somehow transport people across the galaxy in a matter of seconds.

As quickly as the spell was cast, it was broken. The civilian, who was a Colonel as it turns out, dashed out of the control room and threw a box of tissues into the blue ripples. As the item crossed the threshold and vanished, Walter returned to his profession manner and dictated the timed track of the, "object" which was now moving through the space time cosmos to arrive at a planet which it seems was still occupied by humans originally from ancient Egypt.

This assignment was quickly becoming more than just some dead project job, and Walter reminded himself to thank Master Sergeant Dumas later.

As quickly as the gate activated, it suddenly snapped shut, the blue almost folding in on itself as it instantly faded from sight. Continuing to sit there, Walter watched as the leaders left the room speaking of some return message to the Kleenex box which was just discarded through the gate.

After another hour of sitting at the computer console, Walter was relieved by the Technical Sergeant whom shared the office space with himself and Siler. As Sergeant Payne sat down, Walter noticed he was no longer wearing his jacket.

Unable to stop himself, Walter asked, "Where's your jacket," only to see Tech Sergeant Payne's face start to turn red with anger.

"You get caught running through the halls, getting coffee for your crew," he started to mumble, "and run into some Major who is suppose to meet some big whig and suddenly you lose your top." Looking directly at Walter, Sergeant Payne stated flatly, "that kid blamed me for covering him in coffee and took my jacket to cover it up. Slapped his rank on my shoulders and walked off without a care in the world. I don't think it even registered to him that my enlisted rank was still on the sleeve. First ever Tech Sergeant Major I ever seen." cracking a smile to Walter as he finished.

Walter just shook his head as he covered his grin with his hand.

Walter was still in his office, reading up on the stargate when he heard the gate had activated again and there was a response to the message they had sent. He made it to the control room in time to hear the Colonel, named Oneill, say, "Permission to take a team through the stargate General." and was told by the General there would be briefing at O' eight hundred.

The rest of the night was a blur as he continued to study up on the gate and how it functioned.

A little after seven, he was awoken at his desk, having only just fallen asleep, by Siler. "General want you to meet a Captain Carter at sub level 11 and escort 'um to the briefing room."

"When?"

"Should be there by seven thirty I think," Siler responded as he walked out the door.

Looking at his watch, Walter decided he had just enough time to hit the commissary and get a cup of what passed as coffee to help him wake up.

Promptly at seven thirty, Walter stood by the SF desk awaiting Captain Carter's arrival. Not ten minutes passed before the elevator doors opened and striking blond emerged, her uniform crisp and freshly pressed, her shoes polished to a mirror like shine.

It was when she reached the desk to sign in that Walter realized two important things. One, she had the rank of Captain on her shoulders, and two, her name tag showed Carter. Not expecting a woman, much less this very attractive one, Walter stood there feeling out of place.

Once the Captain finished signing in, she turned towards the next set of elevators, as if she had been here before, and pressed the button to call for the lift. Walter regained his composure and turned toward the Captain, remembering it was his duty to ensure she got to the correct destination, a job, he did not realize at the time, would be his for the next ten years.