Author: Crash

Email: the.yllek@gmail.com

URL: http://www.incomingwormhole.com

Story Status: Complete

Sequel/Series Info: None

Season: Any before season before the end of 5

Spoilers: None

Categories: Humor

Pairings: None

Rating: G,

Content Warnings: One word.

Summary: General Hammond and SG-1

File Size (kb): 39k

Archive Permissions: Jackfic, Incoming Wormhole, Heliopolis

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.

Author's Note: Thanks to Tadooh for the beta and to DebiC for letting me know that Daniel went to hide from me. And to the boys of 4th Floor Hosey and the 20 dollar Tyco cars and Daniel for Taco night or this story would have never happened. And Arnise I hope you feeling better soon.

Down Time

It was late. General George Hammond had just finished reading the last report in preparation for the briefings scheduled for the following day. Checking to make sure that his door was secure first, General Hammond left his office and headed in the direction of his second in command Colonel Jack O'Neill's office. He knew that his second hadn't left yet. SG-1 was scheduled to go through the gate the next day and Colonel O'Neill always checked and rechecked everything the night before.

Returning the salute of several airmen, General Hammond turned the final corner to where Colonel O'Neill's office was. When he arrived at his destination the General found the door was closed and the lights off. The general knocked and softly turned the handle to see if the door was locked.

"Colonel O'Neill?" General Hammond asked slowly opening the unlocked door. It wasn't unusual for the Colonel to crash in his office. After all, he had liberated a couch from one of the lounges.

Flipping the light switch, he squinted momentarily as the bright florescent light flooded the room. Looking around he saw that his second wasn't present. On the other hand his inbox was empty and his out box was full. It seemed that his threat of assigning the procrastinating Colonel latrine duty had worked wonders. Switching the light off, General Hammond backed out of the office closing the door once again.

Figuring that his second had left the base, the General headed for the lift only to be stopped by the sound of laughter coming from further down the corridor near one of the team lounges. Intrigued, he altered course and headed toward the sound.

General Hammond slowly approached the lounge at the end of the corridor. The closer he got the more he could hear. Clinking sounds like some one was tapping a spoon on a pan, the sound of plastic packages opening. As he got even closer, the faint sound of small motors could be heard along with thuds of something colliding with another object. And every so often the sounds of laughter, moans, and cheers emanated from the lounge.

As he neared the doorway the unmistakable aroma of beef and onions tickled his nose. The General peeked into the lounge. Sure enough, his nose hadn't been wrong. In the middle of the room two tables had been pushed together to make one long one. A sheet was draped over it in lieu of a real tablecloth and a fantastic array of food items was carefully arranged on its clean white surface. Tortillas, taco shells, Mission tortilla chips, salsa, several kinds of cheese, and other taco toppings were laid out. At one end of the table a skillet filled with seasoned meat steamed and sizzled. At the opposite end, seeming somehow out of place among its compatriots, was a pan of cinnamon rolls.

None of the items on the table, however, explained either the low motorized buzzing filling the air, nor the bursts of laughter and sudden groans from the five occupants of the room.

Peering further in to the lounge the General observed the five individuals. Major Sam Carter second in command of SG-1 was at the "buffet" table compiling the makings of her soft taco. Teal'c, the resident Jaffa, was standing silently in the corner, a plate of food in his hand, his eyes tracking the three vehicles that were zipping across the floor occasionally banging into each other or colliding with fixed structures.

General Hammond had found his second in command. Colonel O'Neill, Major Louis Ferretti, and none other then Sgt. Siler were seated on the various remaining pieces of furniture. Plates of food balanced in their laps, drinks between their feet, and remote controls for their vehicles in their hands.

"Ferretti if you run into my foot one more time I'llŠŠ." Major Carter growled at the owner of the car that was currently parked on her foot. With a quick flick of her foot the car was tossed away landing upside down on the floor.

"Awwwwwwwww Sam! Come on I just got it fixed!" Ferretti whined as he stomped over to pick up his beloved car. The other two drivers used the opportunity to take large bites from their plates.

"Perhaps next time you will be more cautious with your vehicle," Teal'c replied

They weren't your ordinary Tyco remote control cars. You could tell just by the look of them that someone or had taken time to construct each one. Each was vastly different from its counterparts. Each lovingly built by its owner from scratch.

It wasn't long before the necessary adjustments where made and the racing resumed. The cars zoomed all over the room, around and under the tables, couches, and chairs. Often, they collided with each other or into the furniture and walls. There was no doubt that they were having a blast.

Turning away from the doorway, General Hammond leaned back against the corridor wall silently laughing. Colonel O'Neill and Major Ferretti's cars had just collided head on causing bother men to jump to their feet. And in the process they dumped their plates of food all over the brand new carpet.

Hammond couldn't help but wonder where the fourth member of SG-1 was as he watched the two officers clean up their mess. Dr. Daniel Jackson was absent from the chaos. SG-1 was always together just as if they were attached at the hip. It was rare if you ever found one without another. His question was answered when a forth car joined the melee.

"Damit Daniel" Colonel O'Neill swore as Dr. Jackson's car zoomed right through the mess he was cleaning up.

"Ah Jack, come on. There's no use crying over spilled...uh... taco fillings." Dr. Jackson replied as he maneuvered his vehicle around the rest of the room.

"No giggling Major" O'Neill shot a dirty look at Major Carter who was having a hard time controlling herself.

"I'm sorry sir it's justŠwellŠ" Major Carter broke out in a full case of the giggles, as she looked her CO in the face

"Ferretti what is she giggling over?" Colonel O'Neill asked turning to look at his friend of many years.

"Well Jack it could be because you have this lump of refried beans in the middle of your forehead." Major Ferretti answered with a grin on his face.

"Do I?" O'Neill swiveled to look at Sgt. Siler unbelievingly. "They're not messing with me again are they?"

"Um yes sir. They aren't kidding this time" Sgt. Siler reached over and handed him a paper towel. "I hear these work great sir."

Hammond was ecstatic to see them enjoying themselves. Racing their remote controlled cars around the lounge combined with the joyful hooting and hollering and looks of happiness on their faces. Even Teal'c was showing a hint of a smile.

Deciding that he could wait until the following day to speak to his 2IC Hammond slowly backed away from the door and headed in the direction of the lifts. He was reaching out to press the call button when something bumped into his ankle. Twice more he was rammed by the car before he picked it up.

General Hammond picked up the vehicle inspecting it carefully. On the top of the car held on with a rubber band was a noted written on a folded up napkin. Carefully removing the napkin and unfolding it, he read what was written on it.

Don't think that I didn't see you sir.
Why don't you join us?
We need someone who knows how to drive!

J. O'N.

P.S. Can I have my car back?

Chuckling Hammond refolded the note placing it in his pocket. He wasn't sure at first as to what to do. After an intense couple of seconds of debate, he picked up his briefcase in one hand, the car in the other and headed back towards lounge.